


Witch Winchester

by Molli3



Series: Morgan Winchester [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Big Brothers, Canon Compliant, Corporal Punishment, Crying, Discipline, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Little Sisters, Love, Magic, No Sex, No Smut, Non-Consensual Spanking, Plot, Protectiveness, Punishment, Sibling Bonding, Spanking, Winchester Sister, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-04 09:57:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 114,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11552766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molli3/pseuds/Molli3
Summary: Starting at the finale of Season 11 (w/o Mary's return or BMOL) Morgan's a 16 year old witch who has always lived under her Mother's abuse, but in the midst of an attack from a redheaded witch she sends Morgan away with a parting note finally revealing the identity of the girl's father and the last known numbers to contact his son's Sam and Dean for help.Full of canon from seasons 11 and prior *Disciplinary spanking in later chapters*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy to be able to bring this story here- always love feedback on my style, the story, the fact that occasionally I've just used the wrong word- a lot of this story was sparked by really bad insomnia, but I'm better :) Hope you enjoy and love to know what you think!
> 
> *I don't own Supernatural or any of it's characters*

A booming crack shook the house as the flimsy door flung open with such force the young girl curled up on a dirty mattress threw her arms over her head and expertly rolled to the floor. Quickly finding her feet she sprang into a defensive stance, settling her eyes on the mad-eyed woman heaving for breath in the doorway. Her hair frayed and loose falling from a messy bun on top of her head, eyes filled with terror, but her voice harsh and demanding was only slightly worse than her usual tone. Snatching an army green canvas duffel bag from the corner of the tiny room she threw it on the stained mattress the teenage girl had just vacated.  
  
“Get dressed!” She screamed, “Grab what you need, ONLY what you need Morgan there isn’t time!” the mad woman clasped a bulging dark red sack in one hand and shoved it into a back corner of the duffel before she ran back into the kitchen.  
  
“What do I need?” the white-faced girl shook her head, still buzzing with sleep, surprised the brief altercation had left her uninjured, searching frantically around the tiny space, “Mother, please, what’s going on?”  
  
“There isn’t time! She’s coming!” the woman growled from the kitchen over the sound of slamming cabinets and things being thrown carelessly around.  
  
“Who’s coming?!” Morgan felt her throat tighten and bit back hot tears, crying would make this so much worse, but she’d never heard terror in her Mother’s voice, nothing scared her- until this night.  
  
“MORGAN!” Followed by a loud crash overhead, as if a giant was pounding the roof, “Clothes! Spell books! EVERYTHING you need because you’re never coming back to that room- now HURRY!”  
  
At that Morgan turned back into the messy room to hide the rush of tears beginning to pour down her flushed cheeks. They’d had to flee before, but never had it been so dramatic, whatever was coming had this powerful witch terrified. Years of packing the same old canvas duffel trained Morgan well, quickly and methodically she lined the bottom with spell books, crystals and a sack of empty hex bags next to the mysterious red sack before squeezing clothes and other necessities on top. Her young eyes were just scanning the dark room for anything left behind when the middle-aged witch appeared in the doorway, now entirely out of breath.  
  
“Are you ready?” Her mad eyes glowering from behind a frazzled mess of black hair, having finally pulled from the falling bun. Morgan barely recognized her in this disheveled and terrified state. The perpetually cold and distant woman she’d learned from always had every strand exactly where it should be, her face never revealing the thoughts behind those dark eyes and stone lips. That woman was not standing in the doorway, this was not the Mother Morgan feared her whole whole sixteen years, this woman was terrified.  
  
“Yes, are we leaving now?” Morgan twisting her head once more around the room in search for anything left behind.  
  
“You are,” her Mother said simply, not noticing the bulging eyes, screaming at her from her daughter’s color drained face. Always cold and empty she barely looked while shoving a flip phones and a hex bag into the girl’s jacket pocket, “Move!”  
  
She jerked Morgan suddenly, dragging her by the wrist to the kitchen where a large spell bowl sat on the counter half filled with bits and pieces of who-knew-what and roughly stood her shaking daughter next to it, the massive duffel slung heavy over Morgan’s shoulder. Outside the small house another loud crash, like thunder without lightning, shook the foundation and her Mother’s eyes flared at her with fresh terror. She grabbed an antique knife and Morgan’s left hand with her other, before the girl could react she’d pressed the sharp blade into her palm pulling it through fast and spilling drops of red blood on the linoleum. She ignored her daughter’s cry, but let her curl her bleeding hand into a protective fist to her chest.  
  
“Mother, please wait, please,” Morgan begged still trying to bite back tears unsuccessfully, “what’s happening?”  
  
“Morgan,” she said, surprisingly calm as an even louder crash forced the old house to quake, “A witch I refused to join with is going to kill me, she’s breaking my protection spells now,” gesturing above to the booms that were now continuous, “I can’t escape, she’s more powerful than I am now with her dirty Scottish paws on the Book of the Damned, but you must keep safe. I’m sending you away to save everything I’ve worked for my entire life.” Not to save her daughter, to save what she’d learned, “Take this,” she shoved a note in Morgan’s uninjured hand, “Watch behind you always,” as she spoke she dripped blood from the knife into the spell bowl and it began to smoke, “Look out for you, no one else will.”  
  
All Morgan could do was nod, watching her Mother wave the knife over the bowl muttering into it, even opening her mouth to form a word threatened tears to fall. The loudest crash yet blew the front door clear across the living room and a small, angry redheaded woman barrel through the opening. Morgan felt herself start spinning, faster and faster and was sure she was about to vomit when suddenly the reeling stopped, she’d landed hard on her knees and knuckles staring at cracked asphalt.  
  
For a few minutes, maybe longer, the young girl stayed on all fours despite the cold, hard ground digging into her knees. The aches of teleporting started to subside and finally she sat back on her heels, slowly observing her new surroundings, which from the delicious aroma seemed to be the back alley of a restaurant. ‘Where am I?’ Morgan thought, then the thought finally hit her; at this moment her Mother was almost certainly dying at the hands of the redheaded witch. Shaking confusing tears away, Morgan forced the thoughts of her Mother from her mind, she was a mentor but never a mother. ‘She wouldn’t want me to think of her,’ Morgan thought bitterly, ‘she saved me to protect her legacy.’  
  
Pushing herself to stand, the note she’d had unceremoniously handed over crunched in Morgan’s hand. Unfolding it she saw her Mother’s familiar, flowing cursive scrawled fast and frantic, nothing like the writing she’d always diligently composed in spells and potions.  
  
'Your father was a hunter named John Winchester I never told him about you  
  
He died years ago find his sons Sam and Dean they will help.'  
  
Morgan reread the short and abrasive note a dozen times at least before the information started to sink in, burning resentment rose in her chest. She always knew. Years and years asking if she knew who he was, if she remembered, maybe just a small detail, anything to jog her memory about him. She had adamantly stated for years she had no idea who he was and wouldn’t know how to find him if she did. She knew, not only did she know she’d kept tabs on him if she knew he’d died. Winchester. The name was familiar, Morgan was sure she’d heard it before without giving it a second thought. He could have been one of the many hunters she’d seen sit with her mother looking for help or advice on handling a supernatural being. Under her hurried cursive was two phone numbers, the last contacts she had for John.  
  
Morgan shoved the note into her pocket and felt the soft leather of the hex bag, she pulled it out and in the light saw symbols of protection drawn in blood, a cloaking spell of her Mother’s own device. Turning the bag around a few times she realized it had hidden her travel, if anyone had tried to trace the teleportation spell from the kitchen they couldn’t, as long as this had been on the traveler and the process completed with fire. Concentrating her gaze on the small bag, smoke slowly rose from the bloody markings just before a purple flame engulfed the whole thing. Dropping it to the ground, Morgan watched for a few moments as the fire died and left a small pile of ash at her feet. The last of her Mother’s magical protection slowly blew away down the alley; now it was up to her.  
  
Heaving the heavy duffel’s strap back over her shoulder, Morgan shuffled out of the alley towards the dark street ahead. Turning to see the diner’s name “Mel’s” overhanging the sidewalk above a neon sign “Open 24 Hours” she decided the first step was to find out where she was and headed through the front door.  
  
A waitress leaning against the back counter starting at her phone looked up when the bell above the door jingled. She smiled a crooked, yellow smile, but it was genuine and warm, “How can I help you sweetie?”  
  
“Ma’am, uh, I know this is gonna sound weird,” shifting her weight under the giant bag uncomfortably, realizing just now exactly how strange this would sound, “But umm, where am I?”  
  
The waitress shook her head but never lost the smile, “long day huh?” She placed a coffee cup on the counter in front of a stool seat.  
  
“You have no idea,” Morgan laughed darkly to herself.  
  
“You’re in Lebanon Kansas darling,” pouring black liquid into the mug and gesturing Morgan to take the stool, “sit, drink!”  
  
“I’m sorry I don’t have any money,” Morgan lifted both palms to show she had nothing, forgetting about the still bleeding gash across her left palm. The waitress’s smile quickly faded into a look of horror and Morgan immediately shoved the bloody hand back into her jacket pocket, “I’m sorry, that’s uh- that’s just- I umm-”  
  
“Sit!” She pointed to the stool in a way that took away the option and started wetting a washcloth as Morgan slowly lowered into the stool. The older lady gently took Morgan’s hand and more tenderly than the girl had ever been touched in her life wiped the blood from her fingers and palm.  
  
“Please, ma’am, I can do that,” she protested, not wanting to burden this kind woman further, “I mean, thank you, really, but I can do it.”  
  
“Ok Miss Independent, I’ll go grab the first aid kit, be right back.”  
  
Wiping the last few stubborn spots of dried blood Morgan noticed there was a gray bearded man fast asleep in the far corner booth. When the waitress came back around to the counter Morgan asked if she saw he’d fallen asleep at one of her tables.  
  
“Gary? Yea, Gary sleeps here a lot of nights,” her sweet smile returned as she expertly wrapped a white bandage around her left hand, “He doesn’t have anywhere to go and when it’s this cold out I feel for him, I’m here anyway and sometimes he’s not bad company. Drink your coffee sweetie, it’s not hot but it’ll pick ya up anyway, I’m brewin’ another pot.”  
  
“I’m sorry, but I really don’t have any money,” Morgan persisted uncomfortably, her eyes shifting away from the waitress’s incessantly kind stare.  
  
“It’s gotta go,” she shrugged keeping the same smiled, “either you drink it or the drain will, personally I’d rather know it’s going to good use,” and with that she pushed the mug right in front of Morgan.  
  
“Thank you, ma’am,” finally returning a small smile, Morgan started to drink without hesitation.  
  
“So what brings you to Lebanon?”  
  
“I have no idea,” she laughed a little out loud, “like you said, long day.” Morgan’s mind was still racing with the words from her Mother’s note and the two hastily written numbers that probably weren’t even in service anymore; anxious fingers absently caressing the phone in her pocket.  
  
“Hey Mel!” A rough voice called, Gary was up and waving happily at the waitress.  
  
“You’re Mel?” Morgan asked astonished.  
  
She laughed out loud, “No I’m Jessica, Gary’s a sweet old drunk, but he’s a drunk,” with that she hurried to the far corner of the diner.  
  
Morgan took the note out and reread it again focusing on the numbers. Pulling the phone out and flipping it open she started dialing the first number which promptly returned with an out of service message. Three digits into dialing the second number Morgan’s brain caught up with what she was doing and her fingers stopped. ‘What would I do if it worked? What would I do if it didn’t? What would I even say? Why would they help anyway?’ Questions and doubts filled her mind, but with limited available options she finished dialing the number, hit send and waited.  
  
Ring. Holy Shit. Ring. What do I say? Ring. It’s a wrong number. Ring. I’m so screwed. Ring. “This is Dean’s cell, you know what to do.” BEEP. Morgan was less prepared for a voicemail than a conversation.  
  
“Uh my Mother gave me this number for John or Sam or Dean and she’s dead now. I need help.” Before she could blurt out anything else stupid Morgan snapped the phone shut and shakily lifted the coffee mug to her lips. It was probably just a different Dean’s voicemail, there was no way it was them. Shaking her head Morgan started to wonder where she would go when Jessica’s hospitality inevitably ran out. Ring. Her eyes bulged at the phone as she nearly spit her coffee on the counter.  
  
Ring. Flipping it back open, the second number was calling back. Ring. Morgan hit the green answer button before her courage failed. “Umm hello?”  
  
“Who’s this?” A deep male voice asked in a no nonsense tone.  
  
“Who’s this? You called me,” natural defiance from years of learned distrust sprang into action. She immediately regretted her words, however, she had called him first.  
  
“Uh no sweetheart, you called me,” his voice was milder, but he sounded hard, “I just saw the missed call, didn’t get your message. So what’s your name and problem?”  
  
“My name is Morgan,” keeping her voice low, “My mother gave me this number, I’m looking for the Winchesters, she said they would help me. Or might,” quickly adding the end to avoid sounding presumptuous.  
  
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” He asked.  
  
“I’m not sure I even know,” she thought back over the blur that had been the last hour, “My mother is dead and she sent me to the middle of nowhere right before she was blasted to pieces by some ginger braveheart witch.”  
  
Suddenly his deep voice was inaudible, she heard him talking but couldn’t make out any of the words, “Umm, hello? Dean? Sam?” Morgan asked timidly after a few seconds.  
  
“Yea, yea I’m here and I’m Dean, hold on one second, kid,” he continued another conversation in the background, Morgan heard another deep voice then Dean jumped back on the phone, “Ok, where’re you at?”  
  
“I’m at a diner in Lebanon Kansas.”  
  
“Oh!” Dean sounded happily surprised, “Which one?”  
  
“Mel’s…” All of a sudden Morgan realized this may not have been an arbitrary location.  
  
Once more, low muffled voices exchanged comments on the other end before Dean spoke to her again, “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”  
  
They hung up and Morgan stared at the phone for a minute thinking of what had just happened. She had a brother, they talked and now he was on his way to meet her. Nerves and excitement twisted Morgan’s stomach in knots.  
  
“Get a hold of your friend?” Jessica asked sweetly topping the mug off with fresh, hot coffee.  
  
“Um, yea, I did. They’re actually on their way, I guess they’re not far,” Morgan peered out the window into the darkness and only saw herself and the diner reflected back. A lonely young girl with a bandaged hand and a beaten up old duffel bag holding together her entire life.  
\--------------------------  
The low rumble sound could be heard before headlights lit up the diner’s window. A dark muscle car pulled into a front spot and idled purposefully before the engine was cut and the front doors squeaked open then slammed shut. Two large men dressed in jeans, flannels and boots were engaged in a conversation as they walked into the diner, jingling the bell again. The shorter of the two walked right up to Morgan as she fumbled to get off the stool, the taller one with long hair followed right behind him.  
  
“Morgan?” the same deep voice from the phone now towering easily a foot over Morgan. He was broad and hard looking; his face wasn’t unkind but she could tell this man was all business.  
  
“Yea, hi,” narrowing her eyes a little at him, “Dean?”  
  
He nodded and jerked his thumb towards the man behind him, “This is my brother, Sam.”  
  
“Hi Sam,” Morgan shook both their hands.  
  
Sam’s smile was soft, but his grip was reassuring of the clear strength beneath those broad shoulders. He was several inches taller than Dean and Morgan had to recline her head even further to meet his eyes.  
  
Jessica came walking over and her face lit up when she laid eyes on the two men, “Oh, these two!” She exclaimed clutching her wrinkled and worn hands to her chest, “Boys, are you eating?”  
  
“You know us too well, ma’am,” Dean’ smile was charming, a smile Morgan could tell had gotten him out of more messes than he probably even appreciated.  
  
“Now hold on,” Jessica closed her eyes and waved her hands at them, “let me guess,” peeking through squinting eyes she pointed at Dean, “Bacon cheeseburger extra onions?” She was rewarded with another shining smile and a wink that brought a soft pink glow to Jessica’s cheeks.  
  
“Darling,” looking to Sam now, her shoulders drooped in a defeated way, “I always forget if you’re a chicken salad or a wrap.”  
  
Sam’s smile and head nod silently said he was used to Dean being remembered better by women than him, “I always switch it up, but tonight I think I’ll just stick with a burger please.”  
  
“And this young lady?” She directed their attention towards Morgan.  
  
“Oh, no,” shaking her head despite the pangs growing deep down for a meal, “I’m ok, and I don’t- um,” the sentence dragged out into the air where it sat awkwardly waiting to be finished, a low, loud growl from under her jacket rose to the occasion.  
  
Morgan felt Dean staring at her, his eyes hot on the side of her face as she forced herself to hold composure and not start crying at the small reminder of the pathetic situation her life had crumbled into in the last couple hours. Food, like everything, had been scarce, but Morgan had always done well fending for herself, at least when she knew where she was. Independence had been beaten into her so as not to be a burden to her mother, or anyone else. The scratched, white counter blurred in front of Morgan’s eyes as she fought the tears trying to escape, tightness returned to the back of her throat and heat was rising from her ears and cheeks.  
  
“Morgan,” Dean’s steady voice was accompanied by a gentle hand resting on her shoulder giving a reassuring squeeze. She turned her head slightly and peered at him through wet eyes, his face was battle worn and stern but an unmistakable sweetness in the slight upturn of his mouth and gleam in his eyes gave her a reassuring feeling of safety, “Can I buy you a burger?”  
  
Morgan nodded wiping her cheeks and eyes with the dirty sleeve of her jacket.  
  
“Ok what do you want?” He coaxed.  
  
“Can I please get the same thing as him ma’am?” Morgan quietly asked, looking up at Jessica.  
  
“Coming right up!” And off she went to the kitchen.  
  
Sam tapped Dean on the shoulder and gestured to a booth in the empty front corner, Dean nodded, “c’mere Morgan, let’s talk.”  
  
Standing up Morgan braced herself to move the gigantic bag again. Grabbing the duffel’s strap with both hands she bent her knees slightly and tugged up hard nearly toppling backwards when the weight wasn’t nearly what it had been. Sam chuckled with his hand on her back in support and his other effortlessly dangling the bag off the ground, “Sorry,” he smiled, “tryin’ to help.”  
  
Sam and Dean sat on one side of the booth and Morgan situated herself on the other, they sat and sipped coffee silently for a minute before Dean spoke.  
  
“Ok, kid, talk,” he said, but being met with Morgan’s blank expression he continued, “Let’s start with who you are- you said your mother was a witch. What was her name?”  
  
She nodded, “My Mother was Ceralia, a very powerful witch from Iceland originally but she’s been here many years. Or was here many years I guess,” Morgan stopped and looked down, bombarded again with thoughts about the attack her Mother couldn’t have survived.  
  
Dean was nodding and looked at Sam whose forehead was furrowed into a concentrated stare as he slowly nodded and met eyes with Dean. “I think so,” Sam confirmed a question Dean didn’t ask.  
  
“Right?” Dean asked excitedly, “I’m almost positive.”  
  
“No, it definitely was,” Sam was nodding vigorously now, “couldn’t possibly be another one and I’m positive I’ve read it a dozen times.”  
  
“What?” Morgan interjected, afraid they’d forget she was here, “What are you talking about?”  
  
“Your mom,” Dean answered, “our Dad’s journal mentioned her a couple times.”  
  
The mention of John Winchester sent a flash of heat through Morgan and she was sure they saw the flush in her face, but neither of them seemed to notice, “Mother kept me away from her work with hunters, I rarely saw any of them.”  
  
“So what happened tonight?” Sam leaned his forearms on the table, his full attention on the young girl sitting nervously across from him.  
  
The question was overwhelming. Morgan took a breath and gulp of warm coffee before meeting their eyes, “I never saw my mother scared before tonight. She said a witch she refused to join was after her, it’s hard to believe my mother was scared of another witch, she was very powerful, one of the best,” she shrugged, “but she said something about a book giving her more power, it all happened really fast I don’t know. She woke me up and made me pack everything in this,” she kicked the pack without moving it an inch. Her eyes widened in fear briefly as the dark red sack flashed in the front of her mind and silently hoped nothing was fragile.  
  
“What?” Dean asked gruffly.  
  
“Nothing,” She shook her head, partially from the echo of her Mother’s warning never to trust anyone, “This, uh, this tiny witch with bright red hair blew the front door across the house just as Mother’s spell sent me flying here.”  
  
“Why here?” Sam asked.  
  
“I don’t know,” she lied.  
  
“Ok,” Dean started, “this book she mentioned the other witch was using, did it have a name?”  
  
Morgan thought hard over the flurry of words her Mother had spoken in the midst of the booming attack overhead, ‘her dirty Scottish paws on…’ On what? “The book of …” Morgan wondered out loud trailing off at the words she couldn’t find.  
  
“The Book of the Damned?” Sam asked eyes widened.  
  
“Yes!” Morgan yelled but covered her mouth immediately noticing how loud she’d gotten. Sam and Dean exchanged concerned looks, Morgan felt a rock drop into the bottom of her stomach, “How’d you know?”  
  
“We’ll talk about it later,” Dean grumbled firmly as Jessica approached balancing three white plates piled high with fries.  
  
“Can I get you anything else for now?” she asked cheerfully.  
  
“No ma’am,” Dean answered, “we’re all good, thank you.”  
  
“Well enjoy,” she patted Dean’s shoulder and returned to leaning behind the counter on her phone.  
  
The first juicy bite instigated a soft moan Morgan tried to cover, but they were both staring at her like a starving, stray cat. It had been a few days since she’d last eaten, maybe more, her Mother always ate very seldom and intermittently so she’d learned to eat what she could when she could. Occasionally stealing snack foods from neighbors or local stores, she’d only been caught once, resulting in her Mother locking her away for days with no food or water. She was never caught again.  
  
Morgan shoved the last large bite of burger into her half full mouth and immediately grabbed a few fries just as she looked up and saw four wide eyes staring at her in awe. Realizing how disgustingly gluttonous she was being Morgan slowly put the fries down and lowered her head chewing the half cow she’d shoved in her mouth as quickly as possible.  
  
Dean started laughing, “Go on kid,” he chuckled, “I’ve just never seen anyone out eat me, I’m impressed.” She smiled, still a little embarrassed, but with his blessing started in on the fries slightly less vigorously than before.  
  
“Ok so,” Dean spoke through a mouth full of burger, “where you stayin’?”  
  
The rock rolling around Morgan’s stomach returned. She hadn’t really considered the next move after the diner, the whole night had been a blur of massive life changes and quick decisions. Returning the fries she was about to gulp down to the plate, Morgan sat back and stared at the bandage wrapped around her hand, watching light red dots grow slowly larger on the gauze. She stopped shoving the intrusive thoughts aside and finally allowed the events of the last few hours to take over. Her stoic Mother frantic, the house shaking, slicing Morgan’s hand open without warning or pity, her parting orders to protect her precious knowledge and a few messy words on a scrap of paper with the power to turn her daughter’s entire identity upside down. The burger sat uncomfortably in the center of Morgan’s rib cage before threatening to resurface. She bolted from the table to the women’s restroom across the diner.  
  
Violently her insides released barely after she’d thrown herself to still sore knees in front the first stall’s toilet. Everything released. The damn of tears being held back since her Mother burst in screaming and terrified broke. Fat teardrops followed bits of whole meat and partially digested tomatoes into dirtied water inches from Morgan’s face. Eventually, her body stopped retching, wiped her mouth and flushed the evidence of her fears. But she couldn’t muster the strength to get up from the dingy tile floor and just leaned against the wall hugging her knees, sobbing. Alone on the dirty bathroom floor of a diner in a place she couldn’t even picture on a map, her Mother’s final instructions to protect her legacy echoing in her ears. The questions she wouldn’t get answers to raced through her head as she sat and bawled, the bathroom stall seemed to be getting smaller with each overwhelming thought.  
  
A light knock tapped on the door as it creaked open a few inches, “Morgan?” Sam’s voice called into small space, “Are you ok?”  
  
“N-no,” her mouth answered before she could force her brain to stop and a new wave of tears sent the scared young girl back into a sobbing mess.  
  
He pulled the stall door open and crouched his massive frame in the tiny space of the stall doorway and put a heavy hand tenderly on her shaking shoulder. Opening her tear filled eyes a wad of toilet paper was being offered from his other hand and she nodded in thanks, taking it from him. Trying hard to compose herself, Morgan continued to burst into uncontrollable bouts of bawling for another minute as Sam just rubbed her upper back silently. Her breathing evened out after a minute and the whole-body convulsions she’d been experiencing stopped, but when Sam moved to stand up a fresh feeling of lonely dread engulfed her and without thinking Morgan grabbed his arm, “please don’t leave me!” The pathetic cry burst past her lips and hung heavy in the air between them. Ashamed and embarrassed, she quickly released her grip on his jacket, eyes locked back on the tile floor.  
  
“Hey,” he knelt down again and lifted her chin with a finger to look him in the eyes, “I’m not going anywhere, I promise ok? It’s ok to be scared, Morgan and I’m not leaving you don’t worry. I was just gonna get a wet towel to wipe your face, ok?”  
  
She nodded and he stroked her hair before standing and taking one giant stride to the sink. Another quick knock on the door was immediately followed by Dean poking his head in, “Can I join the party?”  
  
“Sure,” Morgan murmured softly. Feeling had returned to her legs and shakily she stood, taking the damp paper towel from Sam, “thanks.”  
  
“Look, kid,” Dean started, “you’ve clearly had a rough night. I’m assuming you didn’t already have a plan for a place to crash?” Morgan shook her head in confirmation of his assumption, “ok, so you’re coming home with us then, I know you don’t know us and-oomph!” Dean’s sentence ended abruptly when Morgan’s body again reacted in emotion not reason and she’d thrown her arms around his middle, a few fresh tears fell on his t-shirt. Letting go almost immediately, Morgan was ready to apologize for the outburst but found he’d wrapped his strong arms around her, rubbing her back while quietly shushing and holding her tight. For just a minute Morgan let herself enjoy the security his hug gave and held onto her big brother.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she pushed away, “I’m a mess,” wiping her face again with the moist towel, “I’m not normally this crazy I swear.”  
  
“Morgan,” Sam spoke up, “you’re not crazy, most people wouldn’t even be standing after what you went through tonight. We just wanna help.”  
  
“Let’s move this powwow to the bunker huh kids?” Dean patted Sam on the back twice and opened the door for them to go ahead of him. Sam took three strides to the duffel and hoisted it effortlessly over his shoulder.  
  
“You ok sweetie?” Jessica came around the corner with a smile and a plastic bag full of to go boxes handing them over the counter to Morgan, “I threw a few extras in for ya since I can’t imagine you got much outta that burger.”  
  
“Thank you, ma’am” managing a small smile and taking the plastic handles from her Morgan then turned to where Sam was holding the door and followed Dean outside.  
  
A beautiful black four door muscle car sat proudly in the first spot gleaming under the street lights. Sam walked around the back, tossing the massive bag in the trunk as Dean opened the rear driver’s door offering to take the to-go bag as Morgan went to climb in the backseat.  
  
“I got it,” and with a smirk she said, “don’t worry I won’t let any of this get on your baby.”  
  
“How’d you know that?” Sam turned his head back from the passenger seat.  
  
“Know what?” Securing the crinkling bag on her lap after latching the middle lap belt.  
  
“Dean’s name for the car, it’s Baby.”  
  
“I would too, it’s a beautiful car,” silently Morgan hoped Dean hadn’t thought her lighthearted joke was more than a coincidence.  
  
“Thanks,” a low grumble came from Dean as he turned the engine over and a loud roar accompanied a soft but strong vibration beneath them. An involuntary giggle escaped the backseat and an unexpected broad smile had spread across Morgan’s face. Dean’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror as he backed the powerful sedan into the empty street, “ya like that?” She nodded her head vigorously and before she knew what was coming the back tires were screaming as they fishtailed down the road.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the bunker! How long until she manages to tell them who she is...
> 
> *I don't own Supernatural or any of it's characters*

“Ok, listen kid,” Dean broke the silence and glanced again in the rearview mirror as the lights of Lebanon faded behind the black sedan. Outside the windows, dawn’s soft gray light was slowly rising over a cornfield but she turned her attention forward at Dean’s command, “I wouldn’t be doin’ this if I had a bad feeling, but where we’re going is secret and it needs to stay that way. Understand?” His tone was no nonsense, clearly used to giving orders and having them followed.  
  
“Yes, sir,” Morgan’s response was automatic. She wanted to tell him she had no idea where they were and didn’t know anybody anyway, but doubted it would matter.  
  
“So, Morgan,” Sam again turned the side of his face towards the backseat, “how old are you?”  
  
“Sixteen.”  
  
Sam nodded, “Where’d you grow up?”  
  
“We uh moved around a- WOAH SHIT!” Shock attacked as if lightning hit every side of her thin body, but after a moment it vanished as quick as it came. Shaking her head, Morgan opened her eyes to find Sam and Dean staring at her, the car idling on the lonely country road.  
  
Simultaneously Sam asked if she was alright as Dean barked, “What the hell was that?!”  
  
‘The reason I ended up behind a diner,’ Morgan thought before answering, “I’m assuming this place is warded.”  
  
“Big time,” Dean nodded, “that a problem?”  
  
“No,” she shook her head, “I just haven’t had a ton of practice passing through heavy protection spells. Kinda stings,” trying to shrug off the fit they'd just seen, she tightening her grip around the bag of cardboard containers still sitting secure on her lap.  
  
Dean nodded as if to say thanks for not letting that food fly all over his backseat and turned back to the road, continuing through the darkness. A few minutes later they curved around an abandoned factory into thick woods, Morgan’s Mother’s voice again yelled a warning through her head not to trust anyone; the point of no return had been getting in the car, now she just had to hope she could trust them. The next turn did nothing to ease her concern as the car cautiously rumbled through the entrance of a cave.  
  
“Holy caves Batman, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Morgan mumbled more to herself than anything but Sam and Dean looked at each other and grinned.  
  
“We are still in Kansas, Dorothy,” Dean chuckled, “But I’ll take Batman.”  
  
She didn’t know how Dean knew where he was going, multiple paths sprang up every few feet but he confidently turned the wheel left and right as they slowly crept past stone walls. Unable to stop herself, Morgan let out a cynical giggle as he turned sharply to the left again.  
  
“What’s so funny kid?” Dean asked slightly turning his head.  
  
“Nothing,” shaking her head and smiling a little, “it’s just that I didn’t know where we were before,” another giggle escaped, “your secret hideout is safe trust me.”  
  
The headlights lit up a large wooden door just ahead at the end of the last tunnel and Dean brought the car to an idle as Sam got out, unlocked and pushed the heavy doors open. Bright light sliced through the darkness making it impossible to see past the doors for a moment but as her eyes adjusted and Dean drove passed the doors Morgan couldn’t believe what she was seeing. An immaculately kept garage bigger than any house she’d ever lived in contained two straight lines of classic cars and motorcycles on either side. Dean parked between them, got out and opened the backdoor reaching for the diner bag. Handing it to him, Morgan scooted out the rear driver’s door, head swiveling, afraid to miss something in this incredible place.  
  
The trunk slam got her attention and Sam was again hoisting the duffel onto his shoulder, “Sam,” she protested, “Thank you but really I can get that.”  
  
He laughed and lifted the bag up and down a few times with one arm, “I bet this thing weighs more that you do! I got it, don’t worry.” He clapped his other hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle push to follow Dean down the concrete steps into a clean, tiled hallway.  
  
For a minute, they walked in silence through a maze of identical hallways before the room opened into a huge space with ancient looking machines covering one wall and a large table in the center displaying an intricate map of the world. Morgan’s neck was starting to ache but she couldn’t stop turning to look at everything, trying to absorb the entire space at once. Dean flicked a switch and lights sprang to life from the room on the left, her jaw dropped and feet instinctively walked towards the massive library.  
  
“Awesome,” was all she could manage, gingerly running her fingers down a row of ancient spines before realizing her intrusion and snatching her hand back, “sorry.”  
  
“No worries, kid,” Dean smiled, “We went geek in here the first time too. Just keep your hands off that sword,” pointing to an old curved saber displayed on a low shelf, “it’s very sharp.”  
  
Sam lowered the duffel onto one of the solid wooden tables with a thud as Dean’s pocket starting blaring a guitar riff. He dug his phone from his pocket, checked the caller ID, glanced at Sam with a look Sam clearly understood and stalked down the stairs out of ear shot as he answered curtly, “what?”  
  
“So,” Sam took Morgan’s attention from Dean’s mysterious call, “You ready to try and dig in again?” Gesturing the stack of to-go boxes on the table.  
  
Her stomach was growling again but was still recovering from the nauseous episode earlier, “Almost, uh no chance you have any Sprite or something?”  
  
“Ya know,” he knocked on the table, “I think we have some ginger ale. S’that work?”  
  
Morgan nodded and his long strides quickly took him down the stairs disappearing behind the same wall as Dean. Just moments after Sam left the library Dean came up the stairs shoving his phone back in his front jeans pocket.  
  
Trying to hide concern as he forced a smile, “Sam’s grabbing some drinks so get comfy,” Dean started removing boxes from the plastic bag and setting them around the table. Opening one he threw his head back a little with a genuine smile, “mmm pie,” grabbing a plastic fork he shoveled in his first bite barely before he’d even sat down. Sam returned with two beers and a ginger ale, handing Morgan the drink can he popped the caps off the bottles and slid Dean’s next to the nearly disappeared pie.  
  
Morgan cracked open the cold can and took a few short sips before opening a box with another slice of blueberry pie, digging a fork in with as much enthusiasm as Dean. This was much better than the pre-packaged gas station pies she’d occasionally had a chance to steal, this was flavor exploding heaven.  
  
“So whatcha got in here?” Sam had thrown his feet on the table and tapped the colossal bag with his boot.  
  
“Jus’ m’suff,” Morgan’s response was muffled in a mouthful of blueberry filling and pastry, she covered her mouth and swallowed hard, “sorry, umm pretty much everything. Clothes, books and umm,” the dark red bag jumped into the spotlight of Morgan’s thoughts and she said hastily, “I don’t know that’s about it.”  
  
They gave her identical distrusting looks before glancing at each other. Dean nodded at Sam, took a long gulp from his beer, set it lightly on the table he was leaning against and stood to his full, intimidating height. Silently he started to unzip the duffel bag and Morgan jumped up in protest, “Hey, man!”  
  
“Hey, what?” He asked calmly but the look in his eyes made it very clear he would not be arguing his decision, “Is there anything in here we should be concerned about Morgan?” The question made her realize it wasn’t just about her trusting them, they weren’t sure if they could trust her and she was the stranger in their home.  
  
With the red bag throbbing in the forefront of her mind Morgan felt her nerves take over again. Hot tears pricked her eyes again, not sure how to explain, “I don’t know,” was all she could manage.  
  
“You don’t know,” Dean dropped his hand from the zipper and turned his full attention to her, his towering frame even broader with his hands on his hips.  
  
She shook her head adamantly, “Mother put something in there, I think I’m supposed to keep it safe,” she shrugged wiping stray tears away with the dirty jacket sleeve, “but I don’t know what it is.”  
  
Dean accessed the timid girl in front of him, then the bag and zipped it closed again, “I believe you, let’s find you a room to crash in before we start digging through this thing, ok?”  
  
“Ok,” Morgan nodded and reached for the duffel’s strap, but Dean put a hand on her arm and shook his head.  
  
“Finish your pie,” he smirked, “and you are not carrying this, I don’t even understand how you got it into the diner!”  
  
“Yea,” Sam interjected, “I’m still wondering how you ended up there. Do you know what kind of spell your mom used?”  
  
‘A blood spell’, “It wasn’t anything I’d know how to do,” avoiding the direct lie Morgan still felt blood pulsing hard in her ears.  
  
“So, what do you know how to do?” Sam asked intrigued, kicking his feet down he leaned forward putting his forearms on his knees.  
  
Morgan smiled and a sudden jolt of excitement tingled to her fingertips, never missing a chance to show off her magic, even as basic as it was. She stabbed a fork into the flaky top of the remaining pie she hadn’t devoured and focused her concentration on the white plastic handle. Her Mother had made sure everything she’d learned had been perfected obsessively, Morgan muttered under her breath and instantly the fork started shivering then scooped a bite of pie into the air, floating momentarily before slowly moving towards her waiting mouth. She closed her lips, pulled the fork out, placing it next to the pie and looked at them both. Sam nodded in what almost looked like approval, but Dean’s face was stern and his arms crossed.  
  
“I’m learning,” Morgan felt the instinctual urge to defend herself, “I can do other things, I haven’t even opened a few of my books yet and now I have Mother’s too and I wasn’t allowed to touch them before so there’s a lot I still don’t know.”  
  
Dean nodded finally and she abruptly stopped rambling, “So,” he started looking her directly in the eyes, “are you a good witch or a bad witch?”  
  
Morgan wished she had the courage to show them that scrap of paper still folded in her pocket, she’d always known there was a reason she didn’t understand the cold Viking blood that coursed her Mother’s veins. She had tried to run the weakness out of her daughter every way she knew, but Morgan was relentlessly kindhearted and Ceralia had hated her for it. Her Mother was not an evil witch, she never had malicious intentions for the world, just her daughter. Her selfishness was no secret, she strived to gather all the magical knowledge her sharp fingers could reach. When it was convenient for her and she could get something out of it she helped others on their particularly difficult trials, but beyond that they’d lived a very secluded life.  
  
“I’m barely a witch,” Morgan smirked, “but I’m a good witch,” Dean kept his intense eye contact and lowered his head a tiny bit, looking even more intimidating, “I swear,” he nodded finally. Morgan felt her shoulders relax.  
  
“Ok well,” he grabbed the monstrous duffel with one hand and swung it onto his back, “let’s find you a bed, kiddo. Ya done there?”  
  
She stuffed the last giant bite of pie in her mouth and turned nodding at Dean as Sam burst out laughing, “Dean, I think we found your mini-me.”  
  
Morgan blushed and Dean laughed too, “Seriously! It’s a compliment kiddo,” winking as she tried to inconspicuously gulp down the oversized bite.  
  
Dean walked down the stairs and around the corner to another brightly lit hallway exactly the same as the others, Morgan followed and Sam shortened his stride to walk next to her. They past a few wooden doors each carved with the same symbol and numbered before Dean stopped and opened 23, gesturing the younger two in first. The room was simple and clean with a sink in one corner, a desk in the other and a dark wood dresser lined the opposite wall, between sat a comfortable looking bed with a single pillow. Dean tossed the duffel on the bed and didn’t waste time unzipping it all the way.  
  
“Ok,” his ears turned a faint pink, “I’m guessing all the witchy stuff is under the uh, um…”  
  
“My underwear,” Morgan cocked her head and gave him her best you deserve it smirk.  
  
He nodded and backed away letting her scoop all of the squished clothing easily with both hands, tossing the pile of ratty fabric on the short dresser. Before Dean had a chance, she’d reached back in and started removing each large, hardbound spell book stacking them on the bed carefully. Sam grabbed a particularly ancient one and carefully examined the flaking spine, but Dean kept his eyes on what else was coming out of the bag. Finally placing the last book on top of the third pile she grabbed her bag of witch’s tools, leaving the dark red sack shoved in the back corner.  
  
“What’s that?” Dean demanded more than he asked.  
  
“Hex bag stuff,” at his alarmed eyes Morgan continued, “and my crystals and other generally witchy things.”  
  
“Yea,” he wrapped his hand around the bag, taking it from her, “I’ll hold onto that.”  
  
Anger flashed in her eyes because the next look Dean gave was a silent “try me”. Deciding it wasn’t worth the fight and knowing her pilfering skills were second to none Morgan just shrugged at him pretending she didn’t care he didn’t trust her, but distinctly noticing the feeling of hot rage bubbling in her chest. Maybe I shouldn’t be trusting him, she thought and her attention promptly returned to the bag hidden in the back corner of the duffel.  
  
“What was it you didn’t know about that you’re Mom gave you?” Sam asked.  
  
Trying to think quickly she searched the books but couldn’t create a reason why any one of them was special. Dean’s distrust at that moment made her rethink the position she was in, baring her tiny, shambled life to two strange men in an underground fortress miles from anywhere. She badly wanted to grab the red sack and run, but knew it was pointless. Even if she could outrun Sam’s long legs she had no idea how to get out of this maze, let alone where to go if she did make it out. She’d have to sneak out when the chance arose. Sam must have recognized the look of a terrified animal searching for a path to safety because he pulled Morgan next to him and left his arm around her shoulder.  
  
“Morgan,” he sat on the bed bringing her with him and looked down with hazel eyes, pieces of his long hair falling in his face, “Dean and I have been fighting monsters and demons our whole lives, you don’t strike either of us as evil. But we’ve also learned to take precautions,” nodding to the bag still clutched in Dean’s hand, “I promise, as long as there isn’t a reason you shouldn’t, you’ll get that back. Let’s just get to know each other a little ok?” His eyes were kind, but Dean still glowered with speculation. Morgan nodded at Sam, not believing a word.  
  
Dean pulled the dark red sack out of its corner, holding it up and turning it in his hands under the light, “this it?”  
  
“That’s all that’s left, isn’t it?” She stared back at him with a blank expression, biting back anger. Sam gently shook her shoulders getting the attention back to him.  
  
“Why don’t we let you clean up and get comfy,” he smiled and stood up from the bed.  
  
“What? No!” Jumping up she blocked Dean from leaving the room with the sack her Mother had given her to keep safe. All the emotion she’d been holding down exploded in a fit of loud anger, “I don’t even know what it is! You can’t just take it you jerk! Let me go, just give me my stuff and show me the door, I’ll walk!”  
  
They both stared with open eyes and shocked expressions, taking her chance Morgan grabbed for the bag in Dean’s hand but he quickly shot his arm in the air above his head and far out of reach. Determined in her rage, Morgan jumped with grasping hands, but got a sinking feeling when her feet didn’t touch back down. Dean’s other arm had wrapped around her tiny torso midair and held her firmly sideways like a petulant toddler having a tantrum in a department store. The position would have normally embarrassed Morgan but her fit hadn’t subsided yet enough to do more than kick, squirm and yelled for him to let her go.  
  
“I will let you go when you calm your ass down!” Dean’s voice was loud and had a tone that made her freeze.  
  
“Fine,” she went limp in his strong hold, not ready to give up the fight but accepting that she didn’t have a foothold in the current situation.  
  
He hesitantly lowered her to her feet and helped as she regained her stance but consciously kept both bags out of reach. She retched herself away, glowering at him angry and offended. Looking up at both large men Morgan realized how helpless she was, seeing her duffel emptied all over a strange room and staring at the one thing her Mother trusted her with tight in Dean’s fist sent an overwhelming wave of failure crashing over her. Again, her throat tightened and the familiar feeling of fighting the tears welling in her eyes started to overtake her, but she determinedly shook her head and swallowed it all deep down before looking up into Dean’s face.  
  
“You have it,” her voice cracked, waving her hand uncaringly at the velvet red bag, “Can I go now?”  
  
Dean’s forehead furrowed and for just a second and he almost looked hurt, “No, you can’t,” he said simply, looking at the bag in his hands, “you have no idea what’s in here?”  
“No,” she stared at him, still seething, “I don’t.”  
  
“Would you like to?” Surprise at the invitation must have been all over her face because Dean scoffed, “I’m not that big of a jerk, kid, but I’d like to take some precautions here if that’s ok.”  
  
Nodding, Morgan felt the knot of anger untwist itself a little in her gut. She released tightly clenched fists, begrudgingly she admitted to herself he had a good point, “ok so open it,” but not yet ready to lose the edgy tone.  
  
Dean narrowed his eyes sternly at her and Sam shifted his eyes between his brother and the defiant teenage girl with a concerned look. Dean was not a patient man.  
  
“Morgan,” Dean took a labored, deep breath, “wash your face, change your clothes and then we’ll look at this together, somewhere a little safer. We won’t open it without you, I promise.”  
  
She nodded with no intention of doing any of those things. Moving away from the door, she sat on the bed and defeatedly put her head in her hands. Waiting for them to leave she mentally started repacking the duffel with what was left, wondering how fast she could get out of there.  
  
Quickly Dean exited with both sacks he’d taken and turned down the hallway the direction they’d come, Sam however leaned against the door frame, “I know Dean’s a bit,” Sam hesitated searching for the right word.  
  
“Of a jerk?” Morgan offered glancing at Sam who chuckled.  
  
“Yea,” he nodded, “trust me, no one knows better than I do. But listen, there’s some things goin’ on out there that we have to be really careful about and we’re not sure how you fit into it all yet-”  
  
“How I fit?” she interrupted, “In what?”  
  
Sam took a deep breath, peering out the door to check Dean was out of earshot, “That witch you saw tonight,” sitting on the bed he continued, “Her name is Rowena, we’re not sure what she’s involved in this time, but if the rumors we’re hearing are right it involves one of the evilest things there’s ever been. She’s used The Book of the Damn before to intimidate witch’s into joining her but this time we think she’s being used in someone else’s plan, it’s possible your mom was-”  
  
“Mother,” Morgan interjected bitterly and Sam cocked his head in a quizzical look, “you keep calling her mom, she was my Mother, more of a mentor and drill sergeant really,” at the words drill sergeant Sam gave an understanding nod.  
  
“I can get that,” he continued, “But we haven’t heard of her attacking others the way she did tonight. Something was important enough for Rowena to go after your Mother as hard as she did, we just need to figure out what.”  
  
“Well you have whatever it is,” she shrugged, trying to look indifferent, “I’m sure you’re better suited to keep it safe, anyway,” standing up Morgan started packing her books back into the duffel bag. She needed to rely on herself, as usual.  
  
“Morgan,” Sam’s voice was steady and low, “we’re gonna need your help and for all we know they’re coming after you next,” she stopped, having not even considered they’d chase her down.  
  
“Why would she?” Hugging one of her Mother’s spell books to her chest looking down at Sam still sitting on the neatly made bed, “I’m barely a witch, I’d be useless to her.”  
“Trust me, that’s not true,” he shook his head, “I know you’re good at taking care of yourself, you’ve obviously been doing it a while,” he reached out and gently wrapped his hand around her upper arm, “we’d just like to help.”  
  
Morgan couldn’t resist a smile as this strong, daunting man looked at her with puppy dog eyes, “Maybe you do, but,” nodding to the door, “I think your brother wants to burn me at the stake.”  
  
Sam smiled and stood to his full height, “Dean takes a little getting used to, but he’s a good guy,” taking hold of the door knob he finished, “wash up and change, I’ll come check on you in a bit,” he closed the door and left Morgan alone.  
  
The analog clock on the wall showed it was nearly seven in the morning, a few hours ago felt like years as Morgan again went over the events of the night. There wasn’t anywhere for her to go. Maybe she could sneak past them, manage to find her way through the maze back to the garage and somehow through the heavy, locked doors, but then what? If the hallways were a maze there was no way she’d find her way out of that cave and even if she did, she knew they were miles from anywhere resembling civilization. The point of no return had come and gone. Morgan angrily accepted, for now, she was stuck.  
  
Sifting through the pile of what was left of her wardrobe she picked up the only pair of sweatpants and a Foo Fighters t-shirt, stolen last year from a thrift store after her Mother had finally noticed the bloody toes of her socks and bought her boots that fit. Morgan briefly considered putting the rest of her clothes in the dresser but immediately thought better of it, knowing she wouldn’t be here long enough and shoved them back into the duffel before dropping it to the floor with a heavy thud. Even though Dean still had her bag of witchcraft Morgan felt instant relief seeing the duffel packed with everything else, ready to go at a moment’s notice.  
  
She stripped off the old army jacket, splattered with dried blood and dirt, and hung it on the hook behind the door. Peeling her dusty jeans off Morgan wasn’t expecting the sharp pain as the denim pulled ragged skin from her knees and she let out an involuntary whimper. Both knees were covered in blood and badly torn open, she shuffled a few feet to the sink turning on the faucet and grabbing a nearby washcloth. She eased the tattered pants off all the way waiting for the water to warm before dabbing her bloody knees with the damp cloth. Fresh blood kept slowly trickling from the wounds and Morgan wished she knew the healing spells her Mother had assured her recently she would be learning before the month was out. A pang stabbed her chest, appreciating from now on, she had to teach herself.  
  
Gingerly she pulled the cotton pants over the open sores, immediately feeling the fabric stick on her warm blood and rolled each pant leg above her knees, sighing at the instant relief of cool air. Quickly changing into the clean t-shirt, she threw the sweat drenched one on the bloody jeans next to her duffel. Lastly, Morgan pulled her Mother’s note from her jacket, read it once again and shoved it in the pocket of her sweatpants.  
  
A solid double knock sounded on the door followed by Sam’s voice, “Morgan?”  
  
“Yea, come on in, Sam,” continuing to dab fresh blood with the reddening washcloth.  
  
“Hey, Dean and I were gonna-” he opened the door and stopped, looking at her bloodied and torn knees.  
  
“Yea,” her focus still on cleaning her knees with the now blood soaked rag, “you don’t have a bandage or somethin’, do you?”  
  
Looking up, Morgan saw Sam was already gone but within a few seconds he reappeared carrying a large tackle box. He knelt on the hard tile in front of where she sat on the bed and opened the lid revealing a tiny emergency room. Beyond the basic gauze, bandages and peroxide there was a stitching kit, arm slings, herbs Morgan didn’t even recognize and dozens of prescription bottles with as many names.  
  
Sam dropped some liquid from a clear bottle on a cotton pad and paused, looking up at Morgan, “this is gonna sting,” waiting for her nod before gently applying the ointment. She responded with a quick jerk of her head, not quite prepared for the overwhelming sting quickly spreading through her leg. Clenching her jaw and fists she held back a cry at the searing pain as he repeated the process again. Sam worked quickly and one knee was nearly wrapped by the time Morgan was breathing normally again.  
  
“Ok,” he finished the last wrapping and stood up, “good?” Morgan nodded pushing her pant legs down, “Good. Dean’s waiting, come on,” and she followed Sam out into the hallway.  
  
“This is my room by the way,” he knocked on the next door, “and Dean’s across,” pointing to room 22 as they past. Morgan nodded, but made a mental note to check there first for her bag, once he was distracted or asleep.  
  
Walking stiffly back through the huge main room Morgan thought they were moving towards the garage but Sam turned right heading down a descending hallway and another rush of invisible power past through her as she stepped over the threshold to these chambers. Seeing the many symbols carved into the ceiling and floor Morgan couldn’t help but wonder the kinds of evils that had seen these walls. Following Sam through a door on the left it seemed like a typical storage room at first but the back wall of shelves was open revealing another room, a room that could only be described as a dungeon. Chains hung from the wall and ceiling, a huge devil’s trap covered the entire floor and one wall housed a cabinet, the door wide open, displaying an arrangement of torture devices.  
  
Morgan went cold with fear, stuck with bare feet frozen at the entrance of their chamber of torment. The instinct to flee stronger than ever, but her body wouldn’t move. Sam hadn’t noticed she’s stopped moving, he was across the room by the time Morgan finally regained control of herself and without any more hesitation, bolted back up the hallway as fast as she could. ‘I can replace everything or live without it, but I’m gonna live!’ She thought frantically just as she reached the main hall and heard them yelling behind her. She skidded around a turn hoping her memory was taking her back to the garage and she could get there before them. Her heart pounding hard she frantically took another turn into another identical corridor.  
  
“Morgan wait!” Sam’s call and the sound of running boots behind her only encouraged a faster sprint.  
  
Turning right then left, Morgan shortly ran into a dead end. Pivoting quickly, she smacked right into Dean’s broad chest and immediately found herself staring at the floor flipped over his shoulder in one easy move. Her stomach churned with terror, tears streaming over her forehead wetting her hair as she fought hard to be released. Sam’s feet came into her view as he ran up and Dean marched back towards the dungeon, ignoring the tiny fists pounding his back.  
  
“Dean,” Sam pleaded, “please man, she’s scared, I didn’t even warn her before we walked in there. Come on put her down, let me talk to her.”  
  
“P-p-please d-don’t k-kill meeeeee,” the pathetic cry behind him broke the anger in Dean’s face and he gently righted her back to her feet. He did not however let go of his firm grip on her upper arms.  
  
“Kill you?” he was almost laughing; which Morgan did not appreciate. Although she considered she should be thankful she was back on her feet, Dean was setting an uncomfortable precedence.  
  
“Morgan,” Sam stepped in, “I’m sorry, I should have warned you,” he looked genuinely apologetic and concerned, “That room has extra warding and since we didn’t know what we were dealing with it seemed the best place to open your Mother’s bag, just in case.”  
  
“So,” embarrassment suddenly colored her cheeks, “you’re not going to torture me?”  
  
Dean did laugh this time, “why would we do that?”  
  
“I don’t know what you like,” she sassed, “You have a dungeon dude.”  
  
“Point taken,” Dean shrugged, “can we all calmly go back there now? I’d like to sleep sometime soon,” without waiting for anyone’s response he turned on his heel and stalked down the hall.  
  
Sam and Morgan walked in silence next to each other. She noticed the pounding in her chest had stopped, fear replaced with humiliation. Despite Dean’s cynicism, nothing they had done implied malicious intentions towards her, if they’d wanted to, she would already be dead. Her past experiences of mistreatment were not their fault.  
  
“I’m sorry Sam,” she glanced up and back down at her bare feet, she hadn’t thought about how far she would’ve gotten without shoes, “I just-”  
  
“No, Morgan,” he interrupted, shaking his head, “your Mother was killed tonight, you’re in a strange place with two men you don’t know and I didn’t even think to explain what we were walking into back there. I’m sorry,” again with the irresistible puppy eyes, “We’re not gonna hurt you, I promise,” she nodded when he wouldn’t look away, “Do you believe me?”  
  
Staring at her bare feet again, she gave him an honest answer, “I’m trying to.”  
  
“That’s all I ask,” clapping a hand on her shoulder they walked back through the doorway of the storage room dungeon.  
  
It was dark and the tile floor, uniformed throughout the bunker, was replaced with stamped concrete. Dean stood next to a table centered in the devil’s trap with the red bag sitting on top, strings still secured in the same knots Morgan’s Mother had tied hours ago, he hadn’t opened it yet.  
  
“Ok, ready?” Dean asked and Morgan nodded at him, the three of them standing around the table staring at the sack in hushed anticipation. Dean expertly working the knots with his fingers had the strings untied in seconds and slowly pulled open the mouth looking hesitantly inside. Confusion was obvious on Dean’s face and he pushed the bag in front of Morgan, “what is this?”  
  
Peering inside, the familiar smell of her Mother’s magic filled Morgan’s nostrils. A small sack of two-hundred-year-old crystals clinked as she took it out placing it on the table, next a neat stack of empty hex bags in various colors, several bundles of tiny bones, more herbs she didn’t recognize (but at least her Mother had labeled the jars) and several small bottles of potions she’d concocted. Morgan noticed one was for cuts and abrasions, making a mental note to use it when she was alone. She was nearly at the bottom of the bag and nothing yet seemed out of the ordinary, for a witch. Flattening her fingers Morgan felt for anything that remained and wrapped her hand around a small, heavy object. A bullet sat with an aged scrap of paper wrapped around it, carefully Morgan unraveled the long strip leaving the bullet bare on the table. Dean picked it up, holding it in the dim light he scoffed, “this is a witch killing bullet,” and handed it to Sam’s waiting hand.  
  
'Cery, I had a great time and I’m glad I didn’t’ kill you. -John'  
  
She reread the note same as her Mother’s. The paper was old and dry, seventeen years wrapped around a bullet kept in her Mother’s most precious possessions. She’d never been sentimental, John Winchester must have really been something.  
  
Feeling Sam peer over her shoulder, Morgan offered the note to him with a shaky hand, knowing she couldn’t hide it now. His shocked look at her and then Dean was accompanied by jaw gaping silence as he handed the curling slip of paper to Dean.  
  
“Is that Dad’s handwriting?” Dean asked examining the note in his hands, “Holy crap.”  
  
Morgan felt them both staring at her but couldn’t meet their eyes and kept her gaze fixed on the concrete. In spite of her frozen toes on the cold stone she felt heat rising up her neck to the tops of her ears, searching for anything to say, every word she could reach was wrong. Dean pinching the curled slip of paper in his fingers repeatedly glanced from the note to Morgan, confusion knitting his eyebrows together. Words were still elusive and after a few silent attempts Morgan just shrugged and returned to staring at her feet.  
  
“What does this mean?” Dean looked at her and then Sam whose gaze was fixed on the nervous girl that wouldn’t look at either of them.  
  
“I think Morgan knows,” Sam’s voice was calm and Morgan finally managed to look at him. Her flushed face unable to hide the affirmation of his assumption.  
  
“What?” Dean kept bouncing his eyes between Morgan and the paper still tight in his grip.  
  
“I just-” Morgan nearly whispered to Sam, “I-I just found out tonight- and I didn’t know what to say- I didn’t think you’d believe me! I’m not even sure I believe it, I-I’m sorry,” meeting Dean’s stunned eyes, he seemed to be finally catching onto what Sam had already figured out, “I’m so confused and I just didn’t know what to say.”  
  
“Say what?” Dean lowered his gaze at her.  
  
Morgan opened her mouth trying to force the words out, but after another failed attempt just dug her hand in the pocket of her sweatpants and handed her Mother’s note to Sam. She watched shock hit Dean like a train as he snatched the note from Sam, who was staring at her in amazement, but finally looked away to Dean whose shock seemed to be festering into anger. The knot in Morgan’s stomach tightened again glancing up at Dean through her long eyelashes, again she was overcome with the urge to run. This time, however, she fought it and stood tensely waiting for the explosion.  
  
Without a word to either of them, Dean stalked heavy footed out of the dark room and back up the hallway, taking both notes with him. Morgan let a sigh of relief escape and shuffled her bare feet awkwardly backwards trying to find an escape. Sam stood silently contemplating what had just happened, but turned just as she was reaching the entrance back into the storage area.  
  
“I really just didn’t know how to tell you,” Morgan blurted out, breaking the stillness between them, “I’m sorry, I just…”  
  
“What are you sorry for?” Sam interrupted, stuffing the bullet into his front jeans pocket.  
  
“I-I’m,” Morgan thought for a moment, not exactly sure what she was repeatedly apologizing for, “I just didn’t know how to tell you.”  
  
“Why would you? I mean, you just found out tonight?” she nodded, “And you don’t even believe it yet?” she shook her head, partially in disbelief of his understanding, “Then don’t be sorry.”  
  
“But, Dean-” she started, but Sam put his arm around her shoulders again, pulling the frail girl into a half hug.  
  
“Don’t worry about Dean,” Sam began, but stopped as Dean rounded the corner back into the room clutching an old leather journal in one hand.  
  
“Ok,” Dean flipped open to a page he’d marked with his index finger, “June 12th, 1999- Travelling to Peoria, Illinois on suspicion of witch activity. Upon arrival met with law enforcement and learned of several strange deaths from previous month, abrupt stop two weeks ago, haven’t heard of another hunter in the area recently. June 14th, 1999- Met Ceralia assuming she was the guilty party, but learned she assisted another hunter in destroying the warlock that was responsible. Confirmed dead. Turned into a great weekend…” he snapped the journal shut and Morgan inhaled sharply at the sudden noise, “When were you born?” Dean’s question sounded more like an accusation.  
  
“Spring of 2000,” Morgan tried to look unintimidated as she stared back at him.  
  
“What’s your birthday?” He sighed.  
  
She shrugged and they both scrunched their foreheads at her, “I just know its springtime, like March or April, I really don’t know.”  
  
Sam looked sad and Dean still clearly disgruntled, but eventually they looked at each other and Sam said, “it fits. You know Dad wouldn’t write that if it hadn’t been something.”  
  
Dean just nodded staring at the journal in his hands and finally up at Morgan, “You just found out tonight?”  
  
She nodded earnestly, “My mother shoved that note in my hand right before sending me here. I read it right before I called you, but I didn’t know who else to call, I don’t know anyone,” the last part came out quiet, but audible.  
  
“You do now,” Sam smiled encouragingly.  
  
“So, your Mother had to have been keeping tabs on us to have that number, but how would she know where we are?” Dean pondered, but before Morgan could answer he continued, “It was a blood spell, wasn’t it? What she used to teleport you?”  
  
Morgan nodded, “It should’ve landed me in the same room as you two,” finally revealing what she’d figured out on the drive in, “the warding around this place is powerful, so assumingly it just got me as close as it could.”  
  
“Like Henry,” Dean nodded at Sam.  
  
“Who’s Henry?”  
  
“Our Grandfather,” Sam answered, “well, yours too, I guess. He… it’s a long story,” he smirked and shook his head.  
  
Morgan nodded and couldn’t help a sudden, very long yawn, “excuse me,” the last few hours had become weeks, sleep a distant memory.  
  
“It’s bedtime, kids,” Dean nodded, covering a small yawn, “Come on,” and he led their sleepy parade back to rooms twenty-one, twenty-two and twenty-three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KUDOS?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan gets to know her brothers, but they all realize there may be something very evil looking for her...
> 
> *I don't own Supernatural or any of it's characters*

They both walked Morgan into the bedroom even though she’d said good night in the hallway and for a moment they all just stood awkwardly in front of each other.  
  
“You goin’ somewhere?” Dean nudged the full duffel on the floor with his foot, Morgan looked up at him unsure how to explain herself and just shrugged before again locking eyes on her feet. Dean’s boots came into her view and she felt his finger gently pull up her chin, “Morgan,” his tone was softer, coaxing her to look at him, “It’s been a crazy night, I can’t even imagine what it’s been like for you. You’re safe here, I promise. Now, I want you to get in that bed and we’ll get back to this when we’ve all had some rest, ok?”  
  
He released her chin as she nodded at him and Sam pulled back the blankets revealing the inviting white sheets. Morgan waited for them to leave but they just stared at each other a few more moments, then Sam suddenly wrapped both long arms around her small frame in a secure hug. Morgan was so surprised, having received more hugs tonight than her entire life together, she barely had a chance to return it before he let go and said good night quickly, leaving Dean and her alone.  
  
“You still gonna be here when I wake up?” He asked as she turned to the bed keeping her back to him, “I know I’m not the most welcoming person, kid, but uh- just- tomorrow put your stuff in the dresser. Got me?”  
  
Morgan could tell he was genuinely trying to reach out, in his own military precision kind of way, and climbing into the comfy bed she gave him a small smile, “Got it, jerk, good night.”  
  
“Good night, brat,” he laughed a little, flipping the light switch and closing the door.  
  
Letting darkness overcome the room as the second hand ticked on in the analog clock, the events of the night rolled through her mind. No matter how she’d tried to sleep, fear and a twist of angry guilt in her gut would not allow it. Finally, at the sound of loud, deep voices outside the door, Morgan relented the attempt at rest and pulled the warm blankets off.  
  
She quickly dressed in cleaner jeans, carefully pulling them over the bandages on her knees, small red dots had bled through overnight. Deciding the Foo Fighters t-shirt was clean enough she left it on and laced up her boots before opening the door into the hall. Following their voices, she found Sam, Dean and another tall man in the kitchen, Sam smiled seeing Morgan in the doorway and waved her in the room.  
  
“Coffee?” Dean held a half full pot in the air.  
  
She nodded vigorously, “Yes, please.”  
  
“Morgan,” Sam gestured to the man in a tan trench coat, “This is Castiel, Cas, this is Morgan.”  
  
She held out her hand and felt a surge of warm power explode through her arm when his hand connected. He wasn’t shaking it, he stared at her for a moment holding her hand as if he was assessing the girl from the inside out. She tried to pull her hand away but his grip was resolute. He released finally, never changing his expression but nodded as if he approved of his evaluation and finally spoke, “It’s nice to meet you Morgan Winchester.”  
  
“What are you?” she stared at the man in awe, noticing a light aura glowing around him, he definitely wasn’t human. Keeping her eyes on Castiel she blindly took the mug of coffee Dean offered.  
  
“I am an angel,” sounding matter-of-fact and never wavering eye contact.  
  
“Oh,” taken aback Morgan looked to Dean leaning against the counter who just shrugged, “well that’s normal.”  
  
“Considering you’re a witch with the bloodlines of Cain and Odin I’m not sure what normal is here,” Castiel seemed oblivious to the shocked expressions staring at him.  
  
“Odin?” Dean finally spoke for all of them, “The Viking God?”  
  
“Yes, probably the last surviving descendant, assuming her mother was killed by Rowena,” Castiel’s tone was pointed and deliberate, “Truthfully, I think this is what Rowena was after,” Morgan looked up from her coffee and found all of them looking at her, Dean and Sam with concern, Castiel’s expression hadn’t changed.  
  
“What?” She stared blankly back at them.  
  
“You,” Castiel answered.  
  
“Me what?”  
  
“Rowena was after you,” Castiel insisted.  
  
“Why?” Morgan scoffed in disbelief.  
  
Castiel’s face changed to exasperation and turned to Dean, “Is she even listening?”  
  
“Cas,” Dean held a hand up to Morgan, stopping her attempt to protest, “This is a lot to take in. Remember after you pulled me out of hell?”  
  
“You were in hell?” she asked astonished, but gaining no attention to the question.  
  
Castiel’s factual tone retorted, “we don’t have the time for her to comprehend at your speed.”  
  
“I’m just sayin’ Cas,” Dean continued, ignoring Castiel’s comment and Morgan’s question, “She’s here and safe with us, we don’t know what their plan is yet and we can’t go guns blazing at this.”  
  
“Hey!” Morgan yelled in the brief silence before Castiel could respond, “Seriously, what is going on? You guys have obviously been up making plans so does anybody want to enlighten me why I’m on this witch’s radar?”  
  
Castiel’s face remained serious as he placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “She’s definitely your sister.”  
  
Morgan shifted her angry and confused gaze from Sam to Dean, avoiding Castiel’s blank, judgmental stare, daring one of them to answer.  
  
“We don’t really know, Morgan,” Sam offered, “Knowing who you are now, although I have no idea about the Odin thing, it’s a safe bet that some really evil things are looking for you.”  
  
“But why?” Pleading her repeated question.  
  
“Because we’re important,” Dean stepped in gruffly, “However, they figured out you exist I’m sure they knew they could use you against us.”  
  
“But,” shaking her head trying to absorb what they were saying, “You didn’t even know I existed! Why would you care? Why would they think you would care?”  
  
“Because the Winchesters are notoriously weak when it comes to family,” Castiel said simply from his post in the doorway, “Not to mention how valuable your blood is being another possible vessel for Lucifer…”  
  
“LUCIFER!?” Morgan shouted as Dean and Sam both rounded towards the angel yelling, “CAS!”  
  
“Come on, man,” Dean growled.  
  
“Lucifer?” Morgan’s mind was spinning.  
  
“If we can’t ease her in can we at least not toss her in the deep end!?” Sam and Dean were entirely focused on Castiel whose face was now covered in confusion.  
  
“Lucifer!?” Willing them to look at her, but to no avail.  
  
“I don’t understand,” The angel stated, “There are an abundance of scenarios we must…”  
  
“LUCIFER?!?!?!” Loud and frantic, this time she got all three of their attention and lowered her voice to a reasonable volume, “What do you mean Lucifer?”  
  
“The archang-,” Castiel began, but Dean flung the back of his hand to Castiel’s chest.  
  
“Nope,” Dean shook his head, “your turn’s over. Morgan, sit,” he pulled a chair out from the table and walked to the fridge.  
  
She defiantly stayed where she was, but when he turned around and cocked an impatient eyebrow she found herself sitting obediently in the chair provided. Dean popped the tops of two beer bottles handing one to Sam before swinging another chair around and straddling it opposite her at the metal table. Sam sat to his right setting his beer on the table with a clunk and Castiel awkwardly shuffled his feet between the table and doorway before silently deciding to leave the kitchen mumbling about needing to meet someone.  
  
“So, Lucifer?” She stared at them with raised eyebrows and sipped her coffee.  
  
“Well,” Sam looked at Dean with a heavy sigh, “I’d start at the beginning but there really isn’t one.”  
  
He began a story starting the night their mother died, killed in a demon fire above Sam’s crib, but not before the yellow-eyed demon, Azazel, infected baby Sam with his blood. Dean joined the narrative describing John Winchester as a formidable force, obsessed with revenge, he raised them as soldiers with all the military background of well-seasoned Marines. Morgan could tell they both felt a lot of loyalty to John, along with pent up aggression from years of being neglectfully dragged around the country on his whim. Sam, self-admittedly, a rebel against John’s orders, had left his brother and father for Stanford University at eighteen but four years later realized even though he thought he’d found a normal life briefly it was a fallacy. Demons had kept tabs on him his entire life, his best friend in college he learned only in the last few years was possessed and responsible for Sam’s girlfriend, Jessica, meeting the same demise as their mother twenty-two years prior. Again, revenge against the demon was the prime motivating factor that reunited the two brothers on the road fighting evil.  
  
They sat for hours as Morgan listened to their incredible tales. John sacrificed himself in a demon deal to save Dean’s life, Dean did the same when Sam was killed in the camp Azazel tried to hide all the psychic children he’d infected. They did get their revenge on the yellow-eyed demon, killing him right after he managed to open a hell gate letting thousands more demonic souls into the world before they could slam it back shut. Dean’s deal only allowed him a year before being dragged to hell and without giving details Morgan understood he’d finally broken after years of constant torture. This righteous man drew blood in hell.  
  
Castiel had been the angel chosen for the mission of pulling Dean from the pit to fulfill the rest of his part as the archangel Michael’s vessel in ultimate plan for the apocalypse. It didn’t need to be explained that Castiel had lost touch with his angelic past in favor of the brothers’ human flaws, the small smile on Dean’s face when the angel’s name came up made it obvious he was a pillar of the brothers’ lives. Taking the Winchester’s side against his own family, he had been a crucial part in their fight to take down an ancient and undesirable destiny.  
  
“I never said yes to Michael,” Dean continued, “Those douchebag angels brought our other brother, Adam, back from the dead just to use him-”  
  
“Other brother?” Morgan couldn’t contain the urge to interrupt at this new information.  
  
“Yea,” Dean nodded sullenly with his eyes locked on the empty beer bottle he was rubbing between his hands.  
  
Sam too looked saddened by the mention of Adam, but continued for his older brother, “Apparently, our Dad got around between hunts, that’s why you weren’t a huge surprise,” shaking his head, he clarified, “Don’t get me wrong, you and whatever is involving you here is a surprise, but finding out we have a sister, I don’t know, it’s just not that shocking.”  
  
Morgan suppressed a smile in the sullen mood of the room as Dean nodded in agreement.  
  
“So, what happened to Adam?” Afraid of the answer, but Morgan was desperate to continue their epic story.  
  
“We don’t know,” Sam said firmly, more to Dean than her as Dean pushed away from the table and grabbed another two beers from the fridge, “Michael possessed him for the final fight between Michael and Lucifer, which we at least stopped.”  
  
“Because Lucifer didn’t have a vessel,” Morgan assumed, but watched Sam turn away with an all too familiar look of shame. Dean set an open beer in front of his little brother and placed an encouraging hand on his shoulder.  
  
“No, kid,” Dean looked at Sam, “Lucifer got his vessel, then his vessel shoved him back in his cage,” Dean emphasized the last statement with a proud pat to Sam’s shoulder before sitting back in his chair.  
  
“You?” Morgan looked shocked at Sam, he nodded, slowly meeting her eyes she saw remorse and pain flooded behind his, “But,” her head shaking back and forth in confusion, “How? You’re here.”  
  
“Cass,” Sam sipped his beer, “and Death.”  
  
“Death?” Morgan laughed in shock, “You guys hang out with Death too?”  
  
“Not since Dean killed him,” Sam gestured to his left with the bottle.  
  
“You killed Death?” She looked at Dean in disbelief, he nodded slightly over his beer, “You can’t kill death.”  
  
“That’s what I thought,” he shrugged and took a long sip from his beer, “turns out I was wrong.”  
  
Morgan’s mouth hung open as she shifted her eyes from Dean to Sam and back, they both looked amused as she gawked for a few moments, “And I thought my life was supernatural before.”  
  
“Yea well,” Dean stood and patted her on the head as he walked to the fridge again, “buckle up kid we’re not even half way through. Aaaand we’re out of beer, I’m gonna make a run.”  
  
“Food?” Sam and Morgan asked together.  
  
“That was weird,” Dean laughed and slammed the last half of the bottle in his hand, “Pizza or tacos?”  
  
“Tacos,” Sam and Morgan in synchrony again. Sam extended his fist across the table which Morgan promptly bumped with her own in solidarity.  
  
Dean looked from one to the other and nodded sharply with a good-natured smirk, “Tacos it is, freaks. I’ll be back!” He called back down the hall, leaving them alone in the kitchen.  
  
“Alright come on,” Sam pushed back from the table stretching his arms above his head he almost touched the ceiling.  
  
“Where we goin’?” Morgan stood ready to follow, eager to hear more.  
  
“I’m gonna introduce you to the Men of Letters,” walking down the hallway, opposite how Dean had left, she trailed close behind Sam.  
  
“There’s more people here?” Astonished, she couldn’t believe this place was any bigger, nor had she heard or seen anyone else besides the angel who had vanished.  
  
Sam laughed, “No, the Men of Letters were a secret society,” he took the steps up to the library two at a time and wasted no time plucking heavy books from different shelves, “This was there headquarters basically. Our grandfather, Henry was a member from the 1950’s..”  
  
“Your grandfather was in this stuff too?”  
  
Sam turned his head from another bookshelf, “Henry was our Dad’s father, he’s your grandfather too. Which makes you a legacy of the Men of Letters,” dropping a few leather-bound books with a thud on the table.  
  
“Legacy?” Morgan picked up one book labeled simply 1958 and flipped the first few pages before stopping on a page of individual pictures and names of members. Sam pointed to the last row on the second page and a handsome 30’s something man stared straight ahead in the aged photograph.  
  
Henry Winchester  
Inducted: 1957  
Deceased: 1958  
  
“Wait,” shaking her head, “You knew Henry?”  
  
“Yea, we met a few years ago,” Sam responded nonchalantly, bent over scouring the other books.  
  
“Even though he died in 1958?” She gave Sam a cockeyed look as he raised his head.  
  
“Actually, he time traveled here using a blood spell. The whole chapter was wiped out during an attack from a Knight of Hell, Abbadon, she followed Henry to 2012,” Sam shook his head as if he was trying to keep bad memories at bay, “Not a fun year. Here,” turning one of the large books around laying it open in front of her.  
  
The symbols and incantations Morgan saw made her nearly drop the ledger she’d stopped absently thumbing through. Some of them were faintly familiar but with more intricacies than she’d ever seen, the words accompanying each were of her vocabulary but arranged in ways her Mother had never, to Morgan’s knowledge, attempted. A demon killing curse, a witch killing curse, a transformation spell, time travel, invisibility, teleportation between worlds, warding spells described so powerful she couldn’t think of anything needing that much protection, Morgan carefully turned the pages with eager fingers. This was magic she could only dream about.  
  
“What is this?” She finally looked at Sam in awe and saw he was beaming.  
  
“One of the Men of Letters most advanced spell books, magic they’ve gathered from all over the world-”  
  
“Were these guys warlocks or something?” Interrupting him in her enthusiasm, unable to tear her eyes from the book as each page was laden with more incredible feats of spell work.  
  
“No, more like librarians,” Sam chuckled, “They understood and used magic, but with your natural ability I bet you could master these in time beyond what they could’ve ever hoped to.”  
  
Morgan choked on a laugh, “Me?! Sam, I can’t do this stuff,” she flipped another page, mesmerized and enticed by each spell that past her eye.  
  
“Not now,” he agreed with a hesitated tone, “but I’m sure you’ll get there, especially now.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Morgan’s eyebrows nearly touching in confusion.  
  
“I know how motivating revenge can be,” he said simply, their eyes locked.  
  
She knew what he meant and under a mix of countless emotions Morgan felt a vengeance monster growing, but couldn’t understand why. Her Mother had used her for her convenience and treated her like a burden for sixteen years, her death was shocking, but after all the silent wishes Morgan had made for her to die she felt more guilt than revenge. The monster growing deep inside her was a creation of her own culpability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! Love to read reviews- even if you hate it :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can Crowley add to this dilemma? 
> 
> *Supernatural does not belong to me, nor do any of it's characters*

When Dean returned with take-out bags and beer Sam and Morgan were still in the library, but she was showing him her spell books. The Men of Letters books returned to their shelves after Sam made her promise not to tell Dean about their conversation over the impossible spells. Striding up the steps Dean’s face was strained, he dropped the bags on the table between Sam and Morgan before shedding his jacket.  
  
“You ok?” Sam cocked his head at his brother.  
  
“Huh?” Dean seemed to come out of a trance, “Yea, uh I’m gonna grab a beer, I dropped the case off in the fridge. Can I talk to you a minute?”  
  
Sam followed Dean down the hallway and Morgan heard their whispers almost immediately start to fade as they walked towards the kitchen. Wishing she had her crystals to spy on them she looked around for a mirror or something that could substitute. Her eyes met the shiny curved sword Dean had warned was very sharp. Carefully picking up the handle Morgan held it up and saw her reflection clearly, this would have to work. Sitting back at the table she concentrated on her bright green eyes in the saber and practiced the incantation in her head before beginning to speak it, but a sudden hesitation shook her. They were her brothers. In just a day they’d made steps to trust each other and she was about to use magic to eavesdrop on them. Sighing at herself Morgan heard her Mother’s voice disgusted with her weakness, her conviction, her stupidity. She returned the sword to its display and decided to take the opportunity to peruse the many books.  
  
When Morgan heard their heavy steps grow louder she started digging out foil packages of tacos from one bag. Dean set a Sprite in front of her and winked, the stress from a few minutes ago completely vanished from his face. Sam rubbed his hands together and started carefully peeling the foil apart from one package and Dean tore the top half off a bag leaving a perfect brown paper bowl of tortilla chips next to the cup of salsa open in the middle of the table.  
  
“Thanks, Dean,” Morgan smiled and sipped her Sprite. He nodded returning her smile, cheeks bulging with three-fourths of a taco he’d eaten in one bite.  
  
For a few minutes, only the sounds of chewing and slurping could be heard, then above them a heavy metal door slammed. In the same moment, she saw Sam and Dean glance at each other, drop their tacos and each pulled out a gun tucked into the back of their jeans, “stay here,” Dean ordered quietly and Morgan’s heart started racing.  
  
They moved like a SWAT team down the side of the stairs hugging the wall as the steps above got closer, her curiosity got the better of her and Morgan couldn’t help advancing a few feet on tiptoes. Another door, closer than before, swung open with a bang as the brothers sprang forward guns poised for attack. Everything happened so fast. Not realizing how far she’d already shuffled away from the designated spot Morgan took a couple more steps and saw the bottom of the tan trench coat and another pair of legs in black slacks standing on the metal balcony above them. Before Dean could address them, however, he caught site of Morgan in the corner of his eye and rounded on her, gun still in hand.  
  
“I told you to stay put!” The angry boom made the girl jump as he approached quickly, taking the stairs in twos, he towered over her.  
  
Instinctually, Morgan threw her hands up, crossing skinny arms over her head, “I’m sorry!” Her face was scrunched, preparing for a blow.  
  
Instead, large, gentle hands wrapped around her wrists pulling her arms down. Squinting, her face still grimaced, she saw Dean’s eyes closed, anger replaced with pain. Trying hard to keep her voice from shaking she whispered, “I-I’m really sorry, Dean.”  
  
With a deep breath, he opened his eyes, “Ok- kid- I know- just, new rule, if our guns are out you do exactly what you’re told. Kapeesh?” She barely nodded at him, “Didn’t catch that.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” she offered a small, apologetic smile and he gave her wrists a reassuring squeeze before letting go.  
  
“Ooh, sounds like some kinky fun in here,” a gravely accented voice sent a shiver through Morgan. Castiel was back and with him was a short, bearded man in an expensive looking black suit, staring seductively at her, “Well hello darling, aren’t you delicious-”  
  
“CROWLEY!” The other three barked so loudly he took a step back, putting his hands up slightly in defense.  
  
“Just being friendly,” he picked up a decanter of brown liquor and poured himself a glass that Dean promptly took and sipped himself, Crowley looked indignant, “you’re welcome.”  
  
“So, what’re Turner and Hooch doin’ here?” Dean sat on one of the tables swinging his feet onto a chair.  
  
“Another dog joke?” Crowley smirked over a new glass, “How clever.”  
  
“We have news on Lucifer and Rowena,” Castiel, unlike his companion, didn’t care for unnecessary banter.  
  
“So, they are working together?” Sam interjected.  
  
“He’s using her,” Crowley rebuked, “He’s bloody Lucifer, it’s not like he gave her much choice.”  
  
“Why Crowley,” Dean smirked, “Bit defensive of mommy are we?”  
  
Morgan felt a chill soak through her and her hands started shaking with the threat of unharnessed magic in her abrupt rage. Glaring at the man in the dark suit she managed to maintain control, only barely, as he smoldered at her reclined on an arm chair across the room, “Darling,” his voice calm and smooth, “if you keep looking at me like that I dare say we’re in for the fun kind of trouble.”  
  
“Your mother is Rowena?” she spit at him holding hot power in her hands, static shocks sparking between her fingertips. Guilt and anger crashing like a torrent of waves in her chest.  
  
“Lucky me I know,” lifting his drink in a toast to himself, he downed the last sip.  
  
Morgan stared furiously at Sam then Dean and finally Castiel hoping one of them would offer an explanation for the son of the witch who killed her mother to be in this room. Dean stepped forward but addressed Castiel instead of her, “how much does he know?”  
  
“Nothing,” Castiel gestured to the furious little witch, “I met Crowley after I left here, when I learned about the circumstances with Rowena and Lucifer, I called you and now we’re here.”  
  
“Yea,” Dean smiled sarcastically, “little warning next time you’re bringing the King of Hell over-”  
  
“STOP!” Morgan threw her hands in the air and the lights above exploded, showering the room in embers of glass before leaving them in darkness.  
  
A deep chuckle came from the direction of the arm chair, “I guess it was about time for you boys to befriend a witch.” Fingers snapped, the lights were restored and again the room was bright, “Working on that control, Darling?” She scowled harder at him.  
  
“Morgan,” Dean stood purposefully between his sister and the King of Hell, “Maybe you should take a break for-”  
  
“No!” she yelled, but the look he challenged her with encouraged an immediate decrease in volume, “Please, Dean,” her tone pleading now and she looked at Sam, “Please tell me what’s happening. I thought Lucifer was locked up in a cage, so how is he in control of this all-powerful witch? Why did he make her kill my mother? And why are an angel and the King of Hell working together?”  
  
Her words made Crowley lean forward from his relaxed position on the arm chair and set his refilled glass on the side table, “Well,” he smirked at Sam and then Dean, “things just got interesting, didn’t they? Darling,” he stood up, taking a step towards her only to be actively blocked by both brothers. Crowley scoffed at them, but retreated his step and continued to address the young girl across the room, “As for how Lucifer is out and about again you’ll have to have these two catch you up, it was Moose’s genius idea,” shame and anger covered Sam’s face, “Mother and I recently tried to put him back, unfortunately we were unsuccessful and he took her prisoner, surprising really, I thought he’d kill her, but then the feathery one here mentioned a recent sighting and now we’re here. I have no idea why they targeted your mother, but judging by the love looks Squirrel and the angel keep giving each other I’m betting they do,” Dean and Castiel immediately averted their eyes from each other, “And the Hell’s Angels team is purely necessity I assure you.”  
  
By the time he’d stopped talking and retrieved his glass Morgan’s anger had subsided towards Crowley, but she was no less confused, staring at Sam and Dean silently begging them for an answer.  
  
“We needed Lucifer’s help with an even bigger evil thing,” Sam started, eyes glued to his feet, “That’s why he’s out of the cage-”  
  
“What’s worse than Lucifer?” Morgan choked out before fear of the response stopped her.  
  
“The Darkness,” Dean answered, “God’s sister.”  
  
She laughed out loud looking from Dean to Sam to Castiel to Crowley and back to Dean, searching for a smile or wink, something to tell her this was a joke. Her brothers looked serious and sullen, Sam couldn’t even meet her eyes, finding his boots much more interesting at the moment. This was no joke. The things they’d fought Morgan had never even heard of and now she was being dragged into the war. A war so ultimately horrific an angel of the Lord and a demon of Hell had joined forces just to survive. Her hands were shaking again but not with sparks of anger, pure terror was pulsing hard in her veins. Turning on her heels she descended the stairs and walked towards the kitchen.  
  
“Where are you going?” Dean called.  
  
“I’m getting a freakin’ drink!” She called back before starting to yell, laughing manically, “God’s sister? Lucifer? King of Hell? Seriously!? What’s next huh?”  
  
Reaching the kitchen, she rummaged a few cabinets before concluding neither of them had ever drank wine before, and threw open the door to the fridge grabbing a cold beer. Morgan had stolen her Mother’s wine for as long as she could remember, the last few inches of the bottles left in the kitchen after she’d gone to bed, occasionally nicking a whole bottle when she restocked, thankfully she never noticed. Morgan liked how it numbed her nerves, regardless of how terrible her life had gotten, alcohol made her not care, at least for a while.  
  
She closed the fridge, and turned to see Dean arms crossed leaning in the doorway. Ignoring his scowl, she simply smiled sarcastically at him, “want one?”  
  
He shrugged, this was clearly not a fight he wanted to get involved in right now. She dug two more bottles from the fridge, the caps popped off and zoomed into the garbage can in the corner. Dean opened his mouth, but decided to keep whatever it was to himself and accepted the bottle she shoved in his hand.  
  
Taking a long gulp Morgan nearly spit it out instantly, but forced herself to swallow the bitter liquid, “Ugh!” Dean laughed loudly as she grimaced at the bottle, but shrugged and took a smaller sip, “definitely not merlot.”  
  
“You’re a wino huh?” He asked taking a sip of his own beer and following her back towards the library, “Morgan,” Dean’s long strides caught him up next to her in a second, “I know how crazy all of this seems, is, it’s nuts, but-”  
  
“Dean,” she stopped in the hallway just before the open room, “I just want the truth. Don’t try to protect me from that.”  
  
He nodded and they walked back up the stairs together.  
  
Handing Sam his beer he smiled in surprise at Morgan as she took another long drink. The taste was growing on her, assisted by the warm indifference it was slowly providing.  
  
“He’s lettin’ you have one? Already a nicer big brother than he was to me,” Sam’s good-natured smile faded quickly at an intrigued hooting sound from Crowley, who had returned to sitting in the arm chair like a throne.  
  
“I’m sorry, Moose,” Crowley slowly put his drink down again and smoothed his beard, “do I understand this powerful young witch is a WINCHESTER?!” He’d risen to his feet, advancing on them and gaining volume until he yelled the name so loud it echoed through the bunker for several seconds, “Did either of you consider that was important information or are we playing keep the demon in the dark again!?”  
  
“Damn it, Crowley,” Dean growled, “We just met her yesterday, there’s a lot happenin’ here so excuse me if I’m tryin’ not to completely bury her in this crap right off the bat!”  
  
Crowley lowered his voice but his tone was still agitated, “Well I think it’s pretty obvious now why Lucifer targeted her-”  
  
“We don’t know tha-” Sam interjected loudly.  
  
“Sam,” Castiel, who had been quietly observing finally stepped in and they all stared at him in hushed anticipation, “Based on her bloodlines Morgan’s a stronger vessel than you. I don’t know how Lucifer learned she exists, but I have no doubt she is his ultimate goal.”  
  
Sam looked like someone punched him in the stomach and ran his hands through his hair walking to the back of the library, his broad shoulders obviously tense.  
  
“Sammy,” Dean started, “this isn’t your fault, man-”  
  
“Well who’s fault is it Dean!” Sam rounded on him with a fury Morgan had yet to see from the younger brother, “Because it sure as hell feels like mine!”  
  
“It’s mine!” Castiel suddenly exploded, “I let him out!”  
  
“And you wouldn’t have if I hadn’t gone in!” Sam persisted loudly, even taller in his anger.  
  
“Guys!” Dean tried to yell over Sam and Castiel, Crowley sipped his glass, reveling in the chaos.  
  
“Who cares!” Morgan slammed her beer so hard on the table the nearly empty bottle smashed in her unbandaged hand, but it got their attention, “Seriously, does it matter? I’ve been here a day and I’m pretty sure this argument could go back years on the domino train of why y’all have made the choices you did. If I have to worry about an archangel trying to use me as a puppet I really don’t care how he got here, I just want to focus on what we need to do about it. Ok?”  
  
After a few moments of silence a slow clap came from Crowley, “Darling, if you ever tire of the drama in this dump, I appreciate power and focus.”  
  
Before Dean could get a word out Morgan stepped forward, directly in front of the demon, “Why do you keep saying I’m powerful?” She was sure he was poking fun at her feebly abilities, nothing to the magic her Mother could perform. Morgan knew she was a pathetic excuse for a witch, having been reminded every day, often several times.  
  
“Because you are, Dear,” he gave her a sideways smile, “For your age, one of the most powerful I’ve ever seen and remember, my mother’s a witch too.”  
  
“Your mother killed my mother,” she growled at him, but clearly intrigued by what he seemed to know, stood firmly staring directly in his eyes.  
  
“Yes, well, I’m sure your mother did plenty of things you wouldn’t want to take responsibility for,” he shrugged and then narrowed his eyes, “Are you really all that heartbroken over her death?”  
  
Sam and Dean yelled protests at him, but Morgan bit her lip and held a hand up for them to stop. This demon understood something in her that no one else would, she wanted to hear him out.  
  
A small raise in her eyebrows silently told Crowley to go on, “Like I said, Darling, I was raised by a witch too. A constant burden and scape goat, yes I know the life. Did your mother lock you up, starve you, beat you?” He kept his eyes narrowed at Morgan and without the slightest change in her scowl he nodded, “The trifecta. Me too. Witches have terrible maternal skills. Darling, you don’t think you’re powerful because you’ve always been told that, as a mortal I wasn’t even magic imagine how much my mother hated me, still does. Trust me, or if not me the angel, heaven knows he can’t tell a lie,” smirking sarcastically at Castiel, “I felt your power the moment I walked in here, you my dear are a force of nature. Or will be.”  
  
Morgan felt everyone’s eyes on her but kept her eyes locked on Crowley, working through everything he’d just said, feeling the strange sense of a bond growing between them.  
  
“He’s right,” Castiel said simply, tearing her attention away from the demon finally, “You were born with a raw power, more powerful than the typical natural witch, probably because of your lineage to Odin and certainly helped by a birth under the spring equinox, of course training from your mother-”  
  
Crowley interrupted Castiel’s rambling with a snort of a laugh, “Odin? The Viking god? She’s part god now?”  
  
“It’s a distant relation,” Castiel confirmed nonchalantly, missing the dumbfounded expression from Crowley.  
  
“Well,” Crowley looked at Sam, “if I were Lucifer and my true vessel was playing hard to get and I somehow learned about a secret half-sister with the blood of Odin AND powerful abilities,” he paused for dramatic effect scanning through his audience, “I’d scour every inch of the earth to find her.”  
  
The silence following his confident declaration was deafening. Lucifer, an evil so ancient and foreign Morgan couldn’t believe he was even real let alone wrapping her mind around his pursuit of her. Sam looked like he was about to vomit, still keeping eye contact strictly with the floor around his feet. Dean didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, staring into his bottle and downing the last sip of beer.  
  
Castiel just stood, looking awkwardly at everyone before halting the quiet, “Morgan,” his hand gently rested on her shoulder and the angel’s bright blue eyes were kind as he spoke, “Your brothers are two of the strongest men the world has ever had. We’ve taken Lucifer down before and we will find a way to do it again.”  
  
Nodding at Castiel, she hoped he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOVE TO HEAR WHAT YOU THINK! HOPE YOU'RE ENJOYING!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well Lucifer is always a bit concerning... Sam feels guilty and Morgan has a heart to heart with Dean.

Ticking from the second hand in the analog clock was the only sound in the room as Morgan sat on the unmade bed running long, thin fingers through freshly washed hair. Her other hand absent mindedly rubbing her chest, still sore from an Enochian spell Castiel carved into her ribs, intended to further hide her from Lucifer. Leaning against the pillow, legs crossed she stared at her bare feet, wiggling her toes wondering what it would be like not to control them. Less than two days ago she’d been nobody, not even knowing her father’s name, lonely and mistreated but strangely content compared to how she felt now. The softest bed she’d ever slept on felt like stone as thoughts of all that had happened earlier spun through her mind. Mindlessly untangling smooth untangled hair, trying to wrap her mind around this biblical terror even knowing her name let alone being caught in his sites. Two solid knocks on the door shook Morgan from the dark place her mind was traveling towards.  
  
“Yeah?” She called and the door creaked open, Sam’s hair swung in just before the rest of him.  
  
“Hey, d’you mind if I come in?” He shut the door when she nodded. He sat at the end of her bed and looked stiff. Finally, after a few moments he sighed and looked at her with a rather forced and pitying smile, “Morgan, you don’t know how sorry I am for all of this-”  
  
“Sam-” but he put up a hand to stop her interruption.  
  
“No,” shaking his head slightly he continued, not breaking eye contact, “I know I’ve said it but really I’ve been pissed at myself for a while now knowing he’s in the wind again. Now that you’re here, I just- you just have to know this is our problem, Dean, Cas and I are gonna take care of Lucifer-” he stopped, taken aback by a loud, sarcastic scoff and eyeroll, but his face stayed kind asking, “got somethin’ to say?”  
  
“Yeah, actually,” his brief, shocked silence was invitation enough for Morgan to continue, “I get it, I really do, I know you wish he wasn’t out, but he is and I know you wish I wasn’t here but I am-”  
  
“Hold on,” Sam put a hand on her knee, “That’s not exactly true. Of course I wish you weren’t involved in this, Morgan, but I’m glad you’re here. Seriously, we wouldn’t want you anywhere else.”  
  
The corners of her mouth curled into a small smile, “Well, I am involved, Sam, no one has ever handled my problems for me and it’s not starting now,”  
  
“But it’s not just your problem-” he protested.  
  
“I know!” Morgan threw her hands up, urging him to listen, “Just stop saying you guys are gonna figure it out, I wanna figure it out too, ok? I’m not useless and if the most evil evil that’s ever eviled is after me I’m definitely not sitting back hopin’ you guys save me.”  
  
“No one said you’re useless,” Sam insisted, “but you can’t take on Lucifer yourself and it’s just as much our problem as it is yours, more really since it’s our faul-”  
  
“Sam,” she sighed exasperatedly.  
  
“I know,” he held his hands up, “you don’t care who’s fault it is, but I do, ok? You’re not doin’ this alone.”  
  
“And neither are you,” staring challengingly into his eyes they sized each other up and finally Sam nodded.  
  
“Alright then,” he smiled, “be nice to have a witch we can trust on our team.”  
  
“I’m glad you think so,” Morgan shrugged, “but I’m pretty sure Dean’s still miles from trusting me, especially after earlier,” thinking back on his sudden anger at her disobedience when Castiel and Crowley arrived.  
  
Sam’s warm smile spread across his face, “Don’t worry, you and Dean will get there, but truthfully he’s always going to have a close eye on you, no not because he doesn’t trust you”, seeing her head dip in defeat he tipped her chin up with his finger, “it’s because you’re our little sister. Morgan, we wish we knew before, I promise if Dad had known about you, you never would have had the life you did, not saying ours was perfect but, I’m- I’m just really sorry you had to go through all that. But this is your home now, Dean and I are going to protect you with everything that we’ve got, because you’re family, and that’s everything.”  
  
He’d called her their sister and said she was home. The familiar squeezing returned to her throat and Morgan fought hot tears welling in her eyes. He didn’t give her a chance to compose herself, pulling the sobbing teenager tightly to him with both strong arms wrapped safely around her shaking shoulders. Instinctually, she pushed away a little, never having had anyone to cry on she felt burdensome and vulnerable, but Sam tightening his arms refusing to let her go. She sobbed into his flannel covered chest. With all that had transpired the last two days, Morgan was sure Sam thought these fresh tears were still from the swarm of overwhelming changes, but it was a release. These were tears of relief, of belonging and having a home. Accepting his comfort, she hugged him back and slowly calmed her tears into small sniffles before he loosened his arms, but continued rubbing her upper back.  
  
Two more quick knocks on the door immediately preceded Dean’s head poking in without waiting for a response, “Hey, how we doin’?”  
  
“I’m ok,” Morgan gave a small nod and shrugged, “shockingly, but really, I’m ok, I mean I keep thinking I should be more scared, but I’m not.”  
  
“No?” Dean’s eyebrows raised with surprise.  
  
“I should be terrified, but,” shifting her gaze from Dean to Sam and back to Dean, “Here, I don’t know, I just, it’s just nice not to be alone for once.”  
  
She didn’t mean to sound pathetic and hated the pitiful looks they gave each other, but then they both smiled.  
  
“You’re definitely not alone,” Sam laughed, “you’re prolly gonna get sick of us real quick.”  
  
Shaking her head with a smile Dean caught Morgan’s eye with a look that told her he had something to add. She knew what he was going to say, having expected him to address their altercation earlier. Her stomach squirmed.  
  
“Speaking of,” he shifted to leaning on the side of the dresser closest to her, his face was stern, “we need to set some ground rules around here,” Morgan glanced at Sam who half shrugged, a clear indication he was behind Dean’s statement, “You’ve gotta work with us here, kid, I won’t have you leaving here alone-”  
  
“Where am I gonna go?” she scoffed, instinctually indignant to his boundaries, muffling the rational voice in her head telling her to shut up.  
  
“Morgan,” he breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a few moments in exasperation, “You’re not in trouble here, I’m not trying to be a jerk, I’m trying to keep you safe. Even with that angelic radar jammer tattooed on your ribs you’re at risk, so unless you’re with one of us you’re not leaving this bunker. Got it?”  
  
“Yeah,” she cocked her head, staring challengingly at him, “I don’t feel like I’m in trouble at all.”  
  
Sam put a hand up at Dean to stop his retort, “Yea, he’s good at that,” Sam gave his big brother a sideways glance before looking back at their sister, “But you’re a smart girl, I know you get it- right?”  
  
Relenting to rationality and Sam’s kinder approach Morgan nodded at him, averting her eyes from Dean’s gaze as he continued, “Good,” he said shortly, “then let’s talk about earlier,” this time Dean put a hand out to stop Sam from interrupting in protest, “I’m sorry I scared you, but I was scared too.”  
  
Morgan stared up at him in surprise, she couldn’t believe anything scared this man.  
  
Dean offered a half smile and continued, “All I thought in that second was what could have happened if it wasn’t them, or if we were somewhere else and I couldn’t get to you,” he briefly looked at the ceiling shaking his head slightly and returning to meet her eyes, “just, you have to follow orders out there. Whether they come from me or Sam, if we tell you to stay put you stay put, if we yell run you run. You could get seriously hurt, or worse. We’ve been doin’ this awhile and you’re gonna have to trust we know what we’re doin’ and do what we tell you. Understand?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Morgan said quietly, feeling firmly chastised and truly apologetic for having frightened him, “I’m sorry, seriously, I didn’t mean to scare you and I get it, I’ll listen, I promise,” insisting the last words at Dean’s unconvinced look.  
  
Seemingly satisfied for now he nodded, “Good,” but was interrupted by a loud, low rumble from Morgan’s stomach and shook his head, eyes wide with amused surprise, “Hungry?”  
  
“I could eat.”  
  
“We have a few frozen burritos still, right?” Sam asked Dean as he stood from the bed.  
  
“Yeah, should,” Dean turned and his eyes caught the duffel bag still packed on the floor, with lighthearted amusement in his voice he gently nudged the bag with his foot, “Morgan, put your clothes in your dresser, I’m not gonna ask again.”  
  
She smiled to herself when they both turned their backs, ‘my dresser’.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
It turned out the frozen burritos were barely more than hot pockets, but Dean had two steaming on a plate waiting by the time Morgan arrived in the kitchen, he popped two more burritos in the microwave together. Sam diligently searching website results on his laptop at the table. Morgan couldn’t help smiling from the warmth bubbling under her sore ribs. She felt home.  
  
Pushing her plate across the steel counter, Dean set a cold Sprite next to it and simply said, “no more beer.”  
  
With a smirk, Morgan took the plate and drink can to the table, plopping down in the seat across from Sam. His eyes darting back and forth across the screen, he didn’t even notice she’d sat down and barely looked up, muttering thanks, when Dean put two hot burritos next to him. Dean finally put his own dinner in the microwave then popped a couple beers, sliding one into Sam’s hand and leaning back against the counter, waiting for the telltale beep. Morgan watched Dean, head down pulling hard on the back of his neck looking strained, and thought how much he must take on himself. Sam may have been the kinder personality, showing more emotion and support outwardly, but Dean was the foundation holding everything in place. Everyone else had food before him even though he seemed to always be the one getting or making it, Sam was clearly used to having meals appear in front of him as he mindlessly chomped his burritos never tearing his eyes from the laptop.  
  
“You ok, Dean?” Morgan asked swallowing the last of her first burrito.  
  
Dean was frozen, hand on the back of his neck, staring at the floor, but shook his head from his daze just as the microwave alerted his dinner was done.  
  
But before Dean could dismiss her concern, Sam pushed back from the table and threw his head back towards Dean, “ghost hunt?”  
  
Dean barely grunted, chugging a gulp his beer.  
  
“I guess it’s just a few towns over,” Sam consulting his computer again, “Jody caught wind of it, sent me the link to an article from last week’s paper,” turning his computer towards Dean who leaned forward only slightly, surveying the screen over the top of his beer as Sam continued, “Three dead, no obvious cause, house was locked, but here’s the interesting part,” they didn’t notice Morgan cocked her head, mouth too full of burrito to comment that it all seemed interesting, “The house was just built, new construction in a hundred-year-old neighborhood.”  
  
“That’s weird,” Dean furrowed his brow, unable to hide his curiosity, “What used to be there?”  
  
“Another house,” Sam clicked and a black and white picture of a three story Victorian mansion popped up, “It was vacant for its last 30 years before they tore it down last Spring, apparently of the residence who didn’t mysteriously disappear or die, the rest ended up going crazy.”  
  
“But no one took care of the bodies so the new house is just as haunted,” Dean seemed to be thinking out loud staring at the picture.  
  
“Yea, prolly buried in the basement,” Sam had turned his computer back facing only him, “It’s only an hour away.”  
  
Dean’s eyes briefly shifted to Morgan just finishing her dinner and chugging the last of the pop. He shook his head at Sam and said, “Naw, Sammy, we’ll find somebody else to go.”  
  
Sam’s mouth hung open and he looked at Dean as if he’d cancelled Christmas, “What? Dean?”  
  
Dean glared down at him and growled, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”  
  
Sam was reminiscent of an angry child pushing away from the table and half sulking from the kitchen. Dean held up a finger to Morgan that they’d be right back, then pointed to the ground silently ordering her to stay put, she rolled her eyes at him but thankfully he’d already turned his back. When their footsteps faded, she snuck into Sam’s seat and quickly read the article about an 1860’s house that seemed responsible for more disappearances than could be accounted for over the years. It took her less than a minute to speed through the short article, but just as she reached the final words, shouts from the library stole her attention. Sam was yelling, but Morgan couldn’t make out the words. Dean’s low growl reached her ears and she couldn’t resist stepping out of the kitchen, sliding a few feet towards them trying to become part of the wall she was pressing her back hard against. Their voices growing louder but hardly clearer, she shuffled a few more feet down the wall.  
  
“Dean! I used to stay back all the time when you and Dad-” Morgan could hear Sam clearly just around the corner from her.  
  
“Damn it Sammy! This isn’t like back then and she just got here!” Dean growled trying to keep his voice low, Sam clearly didn’t care.  
  
“She’ll be fine here,” he urged, Morgan felt a sinking lonely feeling swallow her chest, “We’ll be gone less than a day! Or let’s bring her with, the Impala’s warded she could-”  
  
“NO!” Dean yelled, Morgan let out a silent sigh of relief, “Are you serious man?! You of all people know that lunatic angel will stop at nothing to find her and we’re gonna take her on a freakin’ ghost hunt?! Come on, Sammy, it’s a bad idea.”  
  
“Dean,” he was pleading now, “please, man, we’re at a standstill with Lucifer and you know it. I need to do something, I can’t just sit here with this crap I can’t do anything about right now when we could be helping people.” Her stomach dropped at the word ‘crap’.  
  
“You don’t think what we’re doing with Morgan is helping?” Dean barked.  
  
“There’s nothing to do right now, Dean!” Sam raised his voice again, but his tone remained imploring.  
  
“She’s a mess, Sam!” Her eyes prickled with the threat of tears again, but she blinked repeatedly, taking a silent calming breath, “Did you see what happened when I yelled at her earlier?!” Dean was fully irate but started to lower his voice again, “She needs more saving than keeping her away from Lucifer. How do you not see that?”  
  
“I do,” Sam said almost too quiet for Morgan to hear, even though she was mere inches from the end of the hallway and straining to listen, “Dean, I- I’m sorry, I need to work. I just can’t-”  
  
“I really can’t believe you right now,” Dean scoffed angrily, cutting off his little brother, “Go. It’s a milk run, right?” Morgan heard the clink of keys drop onto a table, “Just go, but I’m not.”  
  
Despite Sam calling his name, Dean’s heavy boots started to move back towards the hall from the library. Morgan turned to slip back into the kitchen but became frantic when she saw how far the doorway was from the spot she now stood. Quietly and quickly, Morgan bolted on tiptoes as fast as she could away from his heavy steps and darted back in the kitchen. Grabbing her plate from the table she rushed to the sink, pretending she’d been cleaning the same tiny dish that whole time.  
  
“Thought we were gonna work on that following orders thing.”  
  
Heat rose in her cheeks and ears, she turned to Dean leaning arms crossed against the doorway. Fully expecting a rain of anger, fresh from his row with Sam, Morgan scoured her mind for an excuse.  
  
“You didn’t have your guns out,” the stupid protest spilled out before Morgan could think how childish it sounded, he narrowed his eyes and a vein pulse in his forehead slightly, “I mean- I- I’m sorry, that was stupid, I just- I knew you were talkin’ about me- I uh- I don’t know,” deciding stuttering babble wasn’t going to help, Morgan just stared at the floor and pressed her lips together hard and thought bitterly, ‘He never would have known if I’d used magic.’  
  
“Yea, we were,” he unfolded his arms, glancing up Morgan saw the vein had faded. His face was almost understanding, as if he too would have taken any opportunity to eavesdrop a conversation he knew was about him.  
  
“I’ll be fine here,” she lied, the last thing Morgan wanted was to be alone in this huge place, but it was important she showed Dean she wasn’t the mess he thought she was.  
  
Shaking his head, “Not happenin’, Sam’ll be fine,” he waved a frustrated hand behind him, “grab me a beer, me, you get a soda,” he jerked his head for her to follow down the hall.  
  
Dean’s room was set up identically to Morgan’s, but the walls were decorated with guns, symbols and knives of all shapes and sizes. One looked ancient, a sharpened thin rock bound to a thick knotted branch for a handle. A TV hung on the wall across from a disheveled desk stacked with books, but it was the crate on the dresser that caught Morgan’s attention. The top corner of Metallica’s and Justice for all record stuck out the top, her first CD. Of course, her Mother had never bothered buying her anything beyond absolute necessity (sometimes barely that), so Morgan had pilfered CD’s, like everything else, listening through old wire headphones on a disc-man she’d found in the trash and repaired. Rock music was another small escape from her constantly depressing life, a glimmer of sanguinity that someday things might change. She’d listened to music when she still felt hopeful, she’d drank when she wanted to world to go away. Skipping through the crate with gentle fingertips she smiled thinking back on those lonely nights, hoping they were behind her. She had to prove to her brothers she wasn’t a mess they had to clean up.  
  
“You like rock music?” Dean smiled watching her sift through his collection in awe.  
  
“Hell yea,” she picked up a few tapes and shuffled them in her hands, “Most of these I’ve never heard, I have some Metallica, ACDC, Nirvana, Three Days Grace-”  
  
“Three Days Grace?” He gave her an eyebrow raised smirk.  
  
“Dude, Three Days Grace rocks,” she brushed him off and grabbed a tape with a simple gold cross on the front, “You’re one to talk,” brandishing the tape at him, “what’s this, Christian music?”  
  
His eyebrows nearly joined his hairline, “You don’t know Ozzy?” shrugging at him, he grabbed the tape and popped it in an old stereo on the dresser, scoffing, “Christian music!”  
  
Suddenly a loud guitar riff blared from the speakers followed by heavy drums and Morgan was involuntarily banging her head with the beat. Smiling at Dean she yelled over the speakers, “this is awesome!”  
  
“That’s the Oz man,” Dean turned the volume down so they could hear each other, but the rock music still audible.  
  
Morgan continued to flip through his albums, knowing he’d brought her in here for an actual reason, but after yet another episode of insubordination, she wasn’t eager for the conversation to start. Her curiosity had always gotten her into trouble, but so did most things with her Mother.  
  
“Ok,” her stomach sank at his tone, knowing a scolding would follow shortly, but this time fully accepting she deserved it. Silently reminding herself to be thankful it wasn’t coming with a beating. Dean waited until she turned to face him, “have a seat,” he motioned to the chair at his desk and Morgan sat compliantly. Dean remained standing, arms crossed, but his face wasn’t as stern as she’d seen it earlier.  
  
“I hoped we had an understanding,” he began and put up a firm hand when Morgan opened her mouth, which she promptly closed, “I’m gonna talk, and you’re gonna listen, you’ll have your chance when I’m done. I do believe if we’d ‘had our guns out’ you would have listened to me. Really,” affirming her slightly surprised expression, “but I think I have to clarify that regardless of where our guns are, I expect you to do what I tell you. Sammy and I have had situations that seemed harmless turn deadly in seconds. In this particular circumstance, though,” he sighed and continued in a much softer tone, “I really just wish you hadn’t overheard that. Now,” he paused and settled himself on end of the bed, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees, “that being said. If I knew there was a conversation about me happening in the other room you bet your ass I’d be listening in. But I want to make sure you understand that while that conversation may have been about you, it wasn’t because of you,” he smirked good naturedly at her confused expression, “Sam is pissed at himself right now, it’s nothing you did and trust me we’re both happy you’re here, I really wish we’d known sooner. But when he gets all screwed up in his head like this,” Dean sighed heavily, dipping his head before looking back at Morgan, “sometimes a hunt helps straighten him out. It’s not you he can’t deal with right now and I need you to get that, he thinks it’s his fault Lucifer got out and that was already weighin’ on him, but now he feels responsible for the burden you have to take on. And believe me, you have to take it on. This psycho won’t stop until he’s found you and then he will do the worst kinds of things to make you say yes,” the color drained from Morgan’s face and Dean put a hand on her knee, “I’m not gonna let that happen, and neither will Sam. Morgan, I don’t want to scare you and I hate that I am, but there’s no way around the facts. But we’ve taken him before and we have more help now than ever,” he paused briefly and gave her knee a gentle squeeze, “like you, however,” he lifted his hand from her with a conditional finger raised, “that doesn’t mean you’re grabbin’ a gun and comin’ huntin’ with us, but it does mean I hope you can help us create our attack plan on Lucifer,” he chuckled softly at Morgan’s bulging eyes and gaping mouth. She had definitely not expected this, Dean continued, “Like I said, kid, I’m not a total jerk, but I will be if I have to. And if you’re gonna join the team you need to understand the fundamental law of this family,” he paused and his face was slightly stricter again, but not angry, “We have a chain of command, I’m in charge, and as far as you’re concerned so is Sam, while Sam’s not much for giving orders, since he never really did, you can expect me to be the asshole most of the time, but if he does, you listen to him as if it were me. Understood?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Morgan was itching to speak, but wasn’t sure if he’d finished and was determined to behave, if only in this one moment with him.  
  
“Ok,” he nodded and seeing his little sister biting her lips together, smiled saying, “Go ahead.”  
  
“I’m sorry I spied on you-”  
  
“I know,” Dean interrupted with a slight hand raise, “it’s over.”  
  
“So,” Morgan shifted her eyes away from him, “I’m not the crap Sam can’t deal with?”  
  
Dean’s face fell, “not even a little bit, kid.”  
  
“But you think I’m a mess,” she stated quickly, afraid she’d lose the courage.  
  
Dean dropped his head, running his hands through his short hair, “I didn’t mean-,” he breathed deeply and looked back up at her, “Yes. I do, I think you’re a mess. I also think that most people would have given up a long time ago if they had to deal with what you did. Morgan, you broke my heart this afternoon when you thought I was gonna hit you,” he paused, shaking his head from the memory of her protecting her head from an expected attack, “I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through, and you have no idea how much I wish I could have saved you from it. Not that it makes any difference, but know that if we knew you were out there, we’d have found you,” hearing him repeat Sam’s words from the night before brought that familiar squeeze back to her throat, swallowing a few times, she was determined not to break into tears again, even happy ones, “You’ve had a hard life, little girl, and had so much life changing information shoved at you in the last couple days that if you weren’t a mess right now I’d be concerned.”  
  
She nodded and swallowed hard once more, “Can I ask about the chain of command?”  
  
“Ask away,” he reached over grabbing his beer off the desk.  
  
“I get it, really I do, but umm, what if you and Sam tell me different things?”  
  
Dean cocked his head and raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed with the question, “I hope that doesn’t happen, I doubt it will, but if it does you go with what I said.”  
  
Morgan nodded thinking she should have expected that response. She only had one more burning question, but wasn’t sure she really wanted an answer. Dean seemed to know she wasn’t done, “Come on, kid, now’s your chance.”  
  
“Lucifer,” she breathed quickly, “what- what will he do? To try and make me say yes?”  
  
“We’re not gonna let him get that far,” Dean stated firmly, but seeing the concern on her face he sighed, “These douchebag angels all have their own tactics, coming at you in a dream or using people you care about against you, but truthfully, I think that is a conversation you need to have with Sam. He knows that snake better than anyone, it’s not something he talks about, but with you he will.”  
  
She wasn’t sure if Dean was confident Sam would talk about Lucifer with her or if was planning on forcing him. Deciding it was best not to push the subject further, Morgan sipped her pop and briefly let her mind travel back to the Ozzy album still playing.  
  
“Morgan,” Dean’s tone was soft, unsure how to approach his question, “Earlier, Crowley seemed to think you weren’t too upset about your Mother’s death, I can’t blame you from what I’ve figured out about her, but I have to ask. Do you want payback for what happened?”  
  
Her face felt hot, thinking he must have learned of Sam and her conversation in the library, but his face was calm. She thought about his question. Sam had not asked if she wanted revenge, he’d assumed she did. Dean was asking what she wanted.  
  
“I hated her,” Morgan said bitterly, “Every day and night I wished she would die. Now that she did- I don’t know- I- I feel guilty,” her throat tightened and eyes pricked, “She starved and beat me, she told me I was nothing and lucky she didn’t leave me to die, she hated me more than I hated her,” forcing the words out, Dean had become a blur in front of her, “I don’t want revenge, I guess I don’t blame anyone b-but myself and I feel guilty for wishing her dead.”  
  
She hadn’t fallen apart, but the tears kept streaming as she wiped them away. Dean became clear again, he was looking directly between his feet, head in his hands, shoulders tense. Morgan saw his shoulders shake for a moment and, though she knew better, briefly thought he was crying. When he looked back up at her, however, he had a sinister smirk on his face, chuckling darkly.  
  
“You are such a Winchester,” he shook his head at her, his smile warming, “Between your unnecessary guilt and screw you attitude you’re gonna fit right in here. You know her death wasn’t your fault, right?” he waited for her to nodded, unconvincingly, at him, “It wasn’t. And what’s more, kid, at your age I wished our Dad dead more times than I could count,” Morgan’s eyes widened at Dean, who continued, “Granted, I was pissed he wouldn’t let me go out, or tracked me down and dragged my ass outta somewhere I shouldn’t’ve been, but that’s normal for teenagers. You have real reasons to hate your Mother, I didn’t even know the bitch and I hate her,” Morgan smiled a little at this, “Nothing about how you were born or raised was normal, not saying we were, but,” he trailed off, eyes on the ceiling as if he’d find the rest of his words in the air above him, “if all I can do here is make you understand it’s not your fault she died, regardless of how many times you wanted her to, I’m gonna do that.”  
  
His words had made sense. Morgan was still surprised at his admittance to occasionally wishing John Winchester dead, but hearing it made her feel slightly better. She was still shaken from the emotional ordeal of confessing the guilt rolling in the pit of her stomach and continued to wipe straggling tears off her cheeks. Dean stood, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet in front of him, he wiped her wet cheeks with his thumbs and then Morgan felt something she never had before. He placed a gentle kiss on her hairline, pulling her into a tight hug. This unknown tenderness brought a fresh sob of relieving tears, she held tight onto him as he stroked her hair and whispered reassuringly he was there, he wasn’t going anywhere and she was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story really helped me come out of a dark place and I really hope you're enjoying, it's not perfect and I know there's mistakes, I proofread as best I could but the earlier chapters were written mostly during nights of insomnia- I swear this is going somewhere though! 
> 
> Love to know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *I don't own Supernatural... shocking I know ;) * 
> 
> Morgan and Dean bond, but the fun and games are cut short when Sam's not answering his phone and a quick scrying session reveals his solo hunt has not gone according to plan...

Morgan woke in Dean’s bed, still fully dressed but the blanket had been pulled over her. They had settled into watching a movie and she must have fallen asleep. Glancing quickly around the room she didn’t see Dean and felt a quick pang of grief right before a sleepy grunt came from the floor below her.  
  
He sat up yawning, seeing her awake he gave her a tight-lipped smile, “sleep well?”  
  
“Yea,” she nodded, truly feeling better rested than she could remember, “I’m sorry, you coulda kicked me out, I must’ve past out.”  
  
“Oh yea,” he laughed, “you were out cold halfway through. Don’t worry, you looked comfy.”  
  
“You didn’t,” she smirked at him, feeling terrible he’d spent the night on the hard tile floor with only a pillow.  
  
“Nah,” he stood, still fully dressed, and stretched his long arms above him, “I can sleep anywhere. Floor’s good for my back sometimes anyway, I’m getting old,” he winked at her, “how’s coffee and bacon sound?”  
  
“Fantastic!” Morgan threw the blanket off and hopped out of his bed.  
  
Dean made breakfast and told Morgan more about his and Sam’s lives, not about monsters, stories about their Dad. Morgan listened intently, eager to learn about the father she never met. She was glad he stuck to happy memories, having gathered enough from their stories the day before to know John Winchester had not been father of the year. Dean talked about Sam and his growing up together. Watching out for Sam had always been his job and while he outwardly admitted Sam was fully capable of taking care of himself now, Morgan could tell the over protective big brother role was ingrained in his personality.  
  
After devouring an entire packet of bacon together he washed the few dishes in the sink and Morgan dried. When Dean bent over to put a pan under the counter, the pearly white handle of his gun stuck out over his thick, leather belt and the question spilled out before Morgan had a chance to reconsider.  
  
“Dean, will you show me how to shoot?”  
  
He stood abruptly, adjusting his shirt tail back over the pistol and turned to her with refusal written on his face, but stopped before he spoke and considered for a moment.  
  
“Why not,” he shrugged, “Come on.”  
  
Morgan couldn’t believe her ears and followed him out of the kitchen nearly bouncing with each step. They made their way back towards the garage through the maze of identical hallways, but Dean turned another way when they hit a dead end and went through a heavy, gray metal door Morgan hadn’t seen yet. A huge, empty room started to brighten after Dean flicked the light switch and the old bulbs circling the walls slowly warmed, humming softly. There was a low counter separating the room, divided every few feet by concrete pillars and at the far end hung targets of human silhouettes. A tall metal cabinet and matching table and chairs sat in the corner across from the door.  
  
“Of course, this place has a gun range,” Morgan snorted.  
  
“Yep,” he smirked and walked to a cabinet, the door clunked open and he chose the smallest pistol on the rack. Checking the magazine, he must have found it sufficiently loaded and clicked it back into place, “So, have you ever handled a gun before?” She shook her head at him, “Didn’t think so, so before you get all trigger happy we’re gonna go over the basics and safety.”  
  
Morgan listened carefully as Dean described the different parts of the gun and showed her how to take it apart and put it back together. He emphasized the correct way to hold and carry it, despite his being lodged in the back of his jeans, to avoid unintentional discharge. He emptied the clip and had her reload it, silently impressed how quickly and flawlessly she did on the first try. Finally, deciding he’d lectured enough on the importance of gun safety, Dean popped the clip back in place firmly and set the gun, pointing towards the targets, on the low counter.  
  
“Ok, now,” he shifted her so they were facing each other, “your stance is important, if you’re not balanced the kick back’s gonna knock ya on your ass.”  
  
He went on to explain and demonstrate where her feet should be, just over shoulder width apart and knees slightly bent. She smiled happily when he complimented her steadiness after gently trying to shove her off balance unexpectedly. After a few minutes, he apparently decided her form was sufficient.  
  
“Ok, come up here,” he moved to let Morgan stand in front of the counter where the gun lay and positioned himself immediately behind her, his chest pressing lightly on her back, “Pick it up how I showed you, good, ok now, hold it, that’s right good job, stance is solid, hold your arms tight, just like that yeah, find your target,” he moved his hands onto hers, holding firmly, “Ok, kid, pull the trigger back nice and slow.”  
  
The pressure on her index finger was hard as she pulled back, the moment she felt it release a satisfyingly loud BANG echoed in the concrete room. Morgan giggled like she had when Dean tore down the road in the Impala and bounced a little on her toes, careful to continue holding the gun exactly as he’d instructed. She felt a deep chuckle in Dean’s chest, still standing right behind her.  
  
“Go again,” he encouraged, taking a step back and moving his hands to her shoulders this time.  
  
Morgan’s smile didn’t fade as she took shot after shot, eventually without any stability assistance from Dean, who leaned against the wall behind her with crossed arms and a proud look on his face. She reloaded once more and emptied a second clip into the target, full of well grouped head and chest shots.  
  
“You’re a natural, kid,” Dean smiled, stepping next to her again, “Ok, remove the clip, good, now come over here,” and she followed him to the small table next to the cabinet where he pulled out a few brushes, oil stained rags and a bottle of cleaning solution setting them all on the table.  
  
He pulled one chair out, gesturing Morgan to sit, and settled himself in the other after removing his own gun from his jeans and placing it on the table. He showed her again, step by step, how to properly strip the weapon, taking his apart in demonstration as she followed along with the other. Dean showed her exactly how each piece should be cleaned, she shadowed him down to the straight lines of cleaned pieces, methodically placed an inch apart on the metal table. Morgan listened patiently to his longwinded explanations and warnings of what can happen to an improperly cared for firearm. His own gun had clearly seen a decent amount of battles, but the pieces gleamed in the soft light, shining like new despite the dings and gouges. Dean didn’t have much in the world, but he took obsessive care of what he did.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Their afternoon was spent mostly in the library. Dean had offered their Dad’s journal to Morgan and she sat in the arm chair Crowley had the day before, silently reading each word thoroughly. Dean was hunched over a table with Sam’s laptop in front of him, repeatedly checking his watch and occasionally making a call, but not bothering to leave a message, reaching voicemail each time. After his third attempt in an hour, he threw his phone hard on the table and roughly ran his hands over his hair. Morgan, startled by the sudden slamming in the noiseless room, jumped a little in her chair and looked at Dean with concern.  
  
“Sam’s not answering,” he spoke with his head still in his hands, staring at the table, “I didn’t expect him back yet, but it’s not like him not to answer,” Morgan wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or not as he continued to address the table, “Damn it Sammy, what’re ya doin’?”  
  
An idea suddenly hit Morgan, one that would hopefully prove to Dean he could trust her with magic.  
  
“Dean?” She said quietly, he lifted his head to show he was listening, but didn’t look at her, “I could, if you want, I mean if its ok, I could find him, ya know with magic,” she let the last word trail off, sure it had been a bad idea.  
  
“You can scry, can’t you?” He’d turned to her, eyebrows raised as if he’d forgotten he was sitting next to a witch.  
  
“Well,” she shrugged, “I mean I’m not great, I wouldn’t try spying on someone with magic, I haven’t mastered stealth, but I can see and hear pretty good, plus he said he wasn’t far so it’ll be easier.”  
  
“Is that a yes?” he stared blankly at her.  
  
“Yes,” she gave him one definitive nod.  
  
“Ok, well, what’dya need?” He pushed back from the table, but Morgan just set the journal on the side table and stared at him.  
  
“My crystals,” she said simply, “you took them.”  
  
“Oh,” his eyebrows raised just remembering and descended the stairs in a hurry.  
  
Morgan was shocked. She had prepared for an argument, but then she supposed his concern for Sam would overcome any aversion he had to magic. Her hand caressed the smooth leather of John’s journal. It was nearly entirely work related, research for hunts and detailed accounts of each one with militant structure. She was only a small way in, having inspected not only the content, but the handwriting and occasional sketching on each page before turning to the next. Every once in a while, though, she caught a glimpse of John the father, usually at the end of a thorough paragraph from John the hunter. These passages she had read multiple times.  
  
…Got back to the room at 13:00, found Dean asleep and Sam had decided he’s an artist, covered a good portion of wallpaper and himself with a marker I must have left out. Most of it came off so far.  
…Returned at 00:00 after tracking the Shtriga to our own room, the thing was about to feed on Sam, asleep on the bed, Dean was frozen with a shotgun pointed right at it! I missed the shot and goddamn thing got away. Sam is fine. Dean had been at the motel bar playing arcade games and got back to the room seconds before I did, not even sure what to do with him right now. Taking the boys to Jim’s, hoping the Shtriga doesn’t skip town before I get back, doubt it.  
…Got back at 21:15, barely slept in two days, beat to hell from the hunt and this kid starts immediately on me about some fieldtrip he wants to go on next week, but we’re leaving Friday. I swear I prefer fighting ghosts to this constant battle with Sam. Dean’s getting his driver’s permit tomorrow, God help me.  
  
Morgan’s attention turned from the journal to Dean as he strode back in the room, her ragged little bag in his fist.  
  
“Now,” he held the bag close, Morgan, slightly annoyed, waited to hear the conditions of his trusting her, “I think you’re good people kid, but I haven’t had the best experiences with witches. Don’t take this the wrong way, today was fun gettin’ to know each other one on one, I like ya kid, really, but I know the power those little bags can have so you can take the crystal things but the rest is stayin’ with me. For now,” he added at her discouraged and annoyed look, holding the sack open for her.  
  
“Ya know,” she said matter-of-factly, digging for the crystals and averting her eyes from him, “hex bags can be just as helpful as they can be harmful.”  
  
“You’ll have to fill me in some time,” he mumbled, cinching the bag closed and setting it on the table, “I’ll get the lights.”  
  
He flipped the switch and sat across from Morgan as she spread her crystals very specifically on the table. The familiar words started muttering out of her mouth automatically as she concentrated entirely on Sam. Warmth flowing through her, she felt her magic release. Where are you Sam? Let me find you Sam. And there he was. Focusing as hard as she could, Morgan watched as he became clearer. Her stomach sank.  
  
Sam was lying unconscious on a bare dirt floor. Shifting her gaze to what surrounded him she was horror struck to find a filthy man, dressed in an ancient and ragged suit, digging a hole on the other side of the black room. Scanning the walls, there were no windows, but in the flicker of an old gas lamp on the floor she could tell the walls were damp and made of unsmooth rock. Sam wasn’t moving. Morgan had seen enough and released her focus, immediately feeling a cool rush and finding the library table in front of her again.  
  
“Dean!” She yelled breathlessly and rapidly told him everything she had just seen, the color steadily draining from his face as she spoke.  
  
Before she’d even finished, Dean had jumped to his feet sending his chair flying back and landing with a loud crash. His expression changed quickly from fear to anger, fire blazing in his green eyes. He tore off down the hall towards their rooms, Morgan stood rooted in the library, unsure if she was supposed to follow.  
  
“Morgan!” His loud bark echoed through the hallway and she scurried down the stairs after him.  
  
He already had a duffel bag on his bed and was checking through the weapons already packed, he rummaged a few drawers adding ammo rounds and a large container of salt. Opening another drawer, he pulled out a pistol and extended it, handle first, to Morgan, she just stared at it.  
  
“Come on kid,” he shook the gun at her a little, “you did great earlier and I’m really sorry I have to leave you but-”  
  
She grabbed the gun, exactly as he’d taught her, trying to look tough and said with conviction, “Dean, I’ll be fine. Go get Sam.”  
  
He nodded hard once, “Good girl,” he gathered the duffel and motioned for her to follow him as he walked hurriedly towards the garage, “keep your phone on you and answer when I call. I’ll be back as soon as I can, if you don’t hear from me in five hours check in,” at the words ‘check in’ he motioned to his eyes, but she’d planned on scrying regularly until they were both safe.  
  
They made it to the garage quickly, Morgan nearly jogging to keep up with Dean’s long, hurried strides. Picking up a gas container, he made his way to an old-fashioned motorcycle and strapped the duffel bag and gas can to the back. Ensuring everything was secure with a rough shake, Dean walked the bike right in front of the heavy wooden doors and pulled one side open.  
  
“Ok, kid,” he turned to Morgan, “Close and lock this door behind me, we’ll be back as soon as we can,” he threw his leg over and kicked the bike hard into a loud idle, shouting over the engine he warned once more, “Don’t go anywhere and answer your phone when I call!”  
  
She managed to hold back the eye roll as she nodded at him, he returned it with his own and took off through the dark cave.  
  
Morgan watched the soft red glow of the tail light fade, returning the cave to complete darkness before she pushed the door shut. Twice she had to slam her entire body weight into it before it finally latched with the other side and she breathlessly clicked the heavy lock, immediately feeling a force shock her fingers slightly. While the sting was unexpected, Morgan was unsurprised this door was also warded with magic. She picked the gun up from a low wall she’d left it on and carried it, exactly as Dean had showed her, back to the library. Happy to put it down again, she set the pistol on the far corner of the table her crystals were still spread on and sat in front of them again.  
  
Concentrating all her might on Dean while muttering the incantation clearly under her breath, the rumble of the motorcycle reached her ears as he slowly came into focus. His short hair beating in the wind, a cool determination set on his face half covered in dark sunglasses, brown leather jacket rippling as he tore down the country road. At the speed he was cruising, he’d undoubtedly cut Sam’s arrival time in half. Slowly, Dean flying on the bike started to fuzz and fade as Morgan averted her focus to Sam again.  
  
The sound of the engine vanished, the room where Sam still laid was silent but for the sound of a shovel scraping through heavy soil. He hadn’t moved, but Morgan felt a small rush of relief when his chest distinctly rose and dropped, he was still alive. Shifting her gaze again, though ready this time, she spied the heinous man by the far back wall. Based on the increase in his hunch, Morgan knew the hole he was digging had gotten significantly deeper. A slight grunt echoed in the bare room and she watched the dirty man’s back stiffen as he turned to look at his victim, unconscious on the dirt floor. Morgan turned back to her brother and saw Sam’s expression was pained, eyes still closed, but clearly coming to. Her heart quickened seeing him stir and whipped her attention back to the disgusting man. He had abandoned the hole and was slowly approaching on Sam, the shovel blade in the air with a menacing look on his ashen face.  
  
Just like the day before, she felt herself losing control over her power in a hot rage. ‘Get away from MY BROTHER!’ The involuntary thought was punctuated with fear, dread and an anger so powerful her head felt like it would explode. The threatening, grayed face was so clear before her, in that moment she was sure, somehow, she’d gotten there, standing right in front of him, both poised for attack. The dead eyes, behind dark matted hair, locked his gaze on Morgan’s, as if he could see her too. Her head was about to burst, all she wanted was to keep that awful man away from Sam, she couldn’t lose him now. The shovel moved higher in the air, about to strike, Morgan yelled the only word in her mind, ‘NO!’  
  
Pressure from her head flowed fast and steadily down her arms, exploding out of her hands as she screamed at the dirty face. He had vanished. Morgan tried to look at Sam, but the room was fading fast, spinning around, exhaustion and throbbing pain overcoming her, darkness engulfing from every side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Still don't own Supernatural or any of it's characters* 
> 
> DOUBLE CHAPTER- This one is twice as long as most, but there's a lot of important information in one scene and it's important it stays together. 
> 
> Morgan's dreams are intruded after the physical toll the strange scrying session took. She's in disbelief of her powers, but stumbles upon a journal from another world that may hold the answer...

“MORGAN!”  
  
‘Please, Mother, I’m so tired. Please let me sleep.”  
  
“Morgan!”  
  
Large hands on her shoulders were shaking her as she blinked her eyes open and peeled her face off the hard-wooden table, wiping a trail of drool off her chin, holding a palm to her pounding head. Sam and Dean were staring down at her, concern on both their faces.  
  
“SAM!” Exploding with happiness, Morgan leapt to her feet and practically jumped on him, “You’re ok! I saw- I don’t know what happened- he was gonna kill you-”  
  
“I know,” Sam hugged her tight and smiled ecstatically down at her, “Morgan, I saw it! You were amazing! How did you do that?”  
  
“Do what?” she pushed away and looked at him with confusion.  
  
“When I woke up, that ghost-”  
  
“Ghost?” she asked surprised, “he looked so real.”  
  
“They usually do,” Dean interjected, “vengeful spirits are strong, it’s not like Casper.”  
  
She looked at him even more confused, “Who’s Casper?”  
  
“Never mind,” Sam interrupted quickly, “I woke up and he was coming at me with the shovel, he was right there! But this purple haze appeared in front of him and then I heard you yell and he got blasted! I didn’t know what happened but Dean got there an hour later and told me how you found out I was in trouble and we kinda figured it out. But I didn’t know witches could project magic like that!”  
  
Her jaw was practically touching her chest as she stared at Sam. She had blasted a ghost into pieces without even being in the room. She couldn’t have, it wasn’t possible. Her Mother had never kept magic a secret from her, contrary to everything else, magic had always been a subject she painstakingly lectured on. Morgan perfected the basics as she was taught them, but was more than aware of the potential she should eventually expect from all aspects of her abilities. Projecting magic through a scry session in a different physical place was not something her Mother had ever mentioned.  
  
“We can’t,” she said quietly, sinking into the arm chair as her legs felt like they were melting beneath her, the ache in her head returning.  
  
They looked at each other quizzically before Sam crouched in front of her, “Morgan, you saved my life.”  
  
“But I don’t know how,” she breathed earnestly at him, feeling her head pounding full force again.  
  
“Sometimes that works,” the genuine smile breaking out across his face again.  
  
“You heard me?” looking at him with honest confusion.  
  
He nodded and chuckled, “You yelled ‘no’ enough the other night, trust me, I know what I heard.”  
  
“Sam,” Morgan shook her head in disbelief, stopping quickly when it felt like her brain was rattling insider her skull, “I couldn’t have, it’s not possible, my Mother never told me it could be done-”  
  
“Maybe she couldn’t do it,” Dean was picking up her crystals, scattered on the floor around the table, “Cass and Crowley told you you’re more powerful than most witches.”  
  
A strange bubble of pride expanded somewhere under her skepticism. Perhaps she was more powerful than her Mother, a thought that suddenly added a rush of guilt to her already mixed emotions. A soft vibration in her pocket brought a welcome distraction, however her stomach did a back flip when her hand wrapped around the phone and her eyes landed on Dean. He looked at her without a trace of amusement, arms crossed. Flipping it open, the screen informed her she had four new voicemails and twenty-seven missed calls, all from Dean. Her ears got hot, her head ached, nausea threatening behind her throat as she felt him still glaring at her, she kept her eyes locked on the phone.  
  
Knowing she had to say something she slowly raised her head to meet his eyes, “I’m sorry, I-”, but he was shaking his head at her.  
  
“It’s okay, kid,” he said, “I was pissed, but seeing as we had to shake you outta that coma I’ll let it slide this time.”  
  
“Yea,” Sam turned towards her, still crouched in front of the chair, “What happened?”  
  
Morgan took a deep breath, trying to shove her headache and nausea aside, and told them how she’d gone back to the library and again looked in on Sam, explaining, as best she could, what had happened when the ghost had turned on Sam with the shovel in attack position, “I just got really scared and angry, I don’t know what happened, but my head felt like it was going to explode and then everything just busted out of me, I guess I did yell, I don’t know, as soon as it happened I couldn’t see him anymore and everything just went black.”  
  
“Well,” Sam was still beaming, “You got him,” with a proud pat on her knee he stood up, “whatever you did.”  
  
“You ok, Morgan?” Dean’s gruff voice asked from behind Sam.  
  
She looked up at him, completely dumbfounded and failing in her attempts to overcome the physical discomfort she was in, “Yea, no, I’m fine,” she pushed herself to stand but found her knees too weak and slumped back in the chair, exhaustion shivering through her body.  
  
“You’re not,” Dean stated firmly, “whatever happened took a lot out of you. No offence, sweetie, you look like crap.”  
  
An involuntary and long yawn from Morgan emphasized his point. Now that the excitement had died down, she felt sleep coaxing her and barely had the energy to move from the chair to her bedroom. Dean seemed to notice this as her lids fluttered over glassy eyes, trying with no success to focus on him. He took two quick strides and lifted her tiny frame in his arms. Morgan didn’t even try to argue and was asleep on his shoulder before he’d fully descended the stairs.  
000000000000000000000  
Morgan slept deeply for hours, flitting in and out of strange dreams. Her Mother was screaming that she’s stupid and weak, chasing Morgan through the maze of the bunker. Morgan yelled for Sam and Dean, but she was alone, narrowly avoiding attacks from behind. She turned, ready to beg her Mother not to kill her, but it wasn’t her Mother approaching with fiery blasts. A huge leathery dragon-like creature was flying at her through the library, she ran as fast as she could, but felt the creature gaining behind her, hot breath on her neck. “DEAN!” He wasn’t there. Sharp claws dug into her sides, but she wrenched away, feeling hot pain as her skin tore open and turned to see the face of a giant snake hissing her name, “Mooooorrgaaaan,” before it reared its ugly head back to strike. “NO! DEAN!”  
  
“Hey! Hey, Morgan,” again she found herself being shaken awake, searching for the soft, deep voice calling her. Dean was sitting on her bed, worry etched in his face, “Morgan, I’m right here.”  
  
A loud gasp escaped and Morgan realized she’d been holding her breath, but sighed with relief seeing his outline in the dark and grabbed tightly to his hand, confirming he really was there. He brushed her hair back gently with his other, making quiet shushing sounds while her breathing calmed.  
  
“You ok? I heard you yell my name,” she nodded unconvincingly at him, which did nothing to easy his look of apprehension.  
  
“Yea,” Morgan sat up, shaking her head from the echoes of the dream snake still hissing her name, “yea, I’m fine. How long’ve I been out?”  
  
“Lil’ while,” the corners of his mouth curled into a small smile, “but if you’re up for it, we were just puttin’ together lunch.”  
  
Suddenly, Morgan became very aware of her stomach. Without any further enticement, she pulled the blankets off and swung her feet to the floor. Dean was wearing different clothes and they were having lunch, meaning it had to be the next day and Morgan had slept over twelve hours. Her head no longer ached and she didn’t feel too weak to hold herself up, both major improvements over how she remembered feeling before passing out. What had happened exactly? She hadn’t had much time to process what she remembered about the last few moments facing the ghost, nor could she remember much of what Sam had said when they’d gotten back. Thankfully, he was in the kitchen, frying bacon, when she entered right behind Dean.  
  
“Bacon for lunch?” Morgan asked happily.  
  
“Bacon always,” Dean retorted, pulling a pop can and a beer from the fridge and sliding the can to Morgan across the metal counter.  
  
“Ever had a BLT?” Sam asked, leaning next to the stove, Morgan shook her head, “You’re gonna love it.”  
  
She nodded and decided to change the subject while the question was still fresh in her mind, “Sam, can you tell me again what happened yesterday?” Watching his gaze shift uncomfortably to Dean, Morgan guessed that Sam had been instructed not to discuss the subject with her, Dean confirmed this with a warning look at his brother. Frustration suddenly exploded out of her, “I’m fine!” she pleaded, more to Dean than Sam and more angrily than intended, “Seriously, I’ve never done magic like that! Of course, it’s gonna drain me! But if I don’t understand what I did I’ll never learn how to control it! Stop shutting me out, it’s bull-”  
  
“Watch your mouth,” Dean interrupted firmly, “and stop yelling at me. You can do all the talkin’ you want so long as you’re up to it, you’ve been out cold for a while and last night you looked like hell, forgive me if I thought you needed a rest.”  
  
“Well, I got it,” Morgan forced a steady tone through gritted teeth. Rationally knowing she was overreacting, stubbornly refusing to stop.  
  
“So, you’re good?” He persisted annoyingly.  
  
“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t,” she snapped, but immediately knew she’d stepped just a toe over the line.  
  
He narrowed his eyes and raised his eyebrows just slightly, the tone and volume of his voice never changing, “Watch it.”  
  
Goosebumps grew on her arms as a shiver trickled down her back. Morgan lowered her gaze to the floor in defeat and muttered and faintly audible, “sorry.”  
  
Dean gave no sign he’d heard her, but nodded to Sam and took over frying bacon.  
  
Sam grabbed his beer from the counter and leaned against the sink, “what do you remember?”  
  
Morgan took a breath and chanced a docile look at Dean before calmly addressing Sam, “I went back to check on you, you were still passed out on the floor and that man- ghost- thing was digging, which still confuses me that a ghost can hold a shovel and why the basement floor was dirt- Anyway, I think we both heard you and I saw you start to wake up, but then he was coming at you with that shovel and I just knew he was gonna kill you. I still don’t know how I did it, I’ve never felt power like that, I just lost control and he was gone, then I passed out. It felt like I exploded. But you said something about hearing me and a purple cloud. What did you see?”  
  
“Well,” Sam began after a swig of his beer, “Turned out there was a cellar built under the foundation, I had just found the entrance in the basement floor when he got the jump on me. That was the ghost of Jeff Stokes, the original owner and builder, he’d buried him and his family alive in that cellar and has been recreating it for years with every owner since. I woke up down there and saw him lunge at me, but right when he was over me this purple mist grew between us. It was really faint at first but then it got dark and glowed and kept getting bigger, it was hovering over me like a shield or something. I’ve never seen a ghost look scared like that, he raised the shovel like he was gonna hack through it to get to me and as soon as he did I heard you yell ‘no’ and the cloud shot at him and he just disintegrated. I didn’t know what happened, it sounded like you but that didn’t make any sense, then Dean showed up about an hour later and told me how you’d found me I was sure it was you I heard down there.”  
  
It wasn’t any clearer to Morgan now than it had been the day before and she stared at Sam, lost for what to say.  
  
“Do you remember what you were feeling right before you past out?” Sam seemed to notice she was searching for an explanation or reason she would be capable of such impossible magic.  
  
“I told you, I thought he was gonna kill you,” she said quickly, but then considered exactly what emotions had been pulsing through her at the time, “I was- angry, scared, he had that shovel in the air, I just- I just couldn’t lose you, I just met you,” she let the last bit trail off in a mumble, returning her gaze to the floor, but Sam looked at her with a warm smile.  
  
He set his beer on the counter and walked to Morgan, lifting her chin gently to meet his eyes, “Thanks to you, you didn’t lose me and I’m not goin’ anywhere. It was stupid of me to go alone after barely any research, I should’ve listened to Dean,” Morgan saw a smirk cross Dean’s face out of the corner of her eye, “I was really angry at myself and just needed to focus on something else, but truthfully, I felt even worse after I left. I felt guilty that you have to take on this huge burden and as I’m driving away realized I shouldn’t have left, knowing you have to have a hundred questions and I’m the only person who can answer some of them. And then you blasted a ghost to pieces to save me after I ran off when you needed me,” Sam’s puppy dog eyes were full of regret, “I’m sorry, Morgan, I am so sorry and I don’t know how to begin to thank you for saving my life.”  
  
She continued to stare at him, slightly dumbfounded for a moment, unsure how to respond to such a sincere apology, having never received one before. She nodded at him, insufficient acceptance to his heartfelt sorry, but her thoughts we’re still preoccupied with the purple mist. What had she done to create it? Was it pure emotion manifesting into unharnessed power? Even if it was, she knew much more than fear and anger would have been needed to create the amount of power Sam had described, completely impossible when she wasn’t physically attached to the place it was happening. It just didn’t make any sense, unless the demon was right, she was a force of nature.  
  
“Sam,” she shook her head back to the present moment, Sam’s guilt weighing on her, “you don’t have to thank me, I don’t even know what I did, but it was selfish anyway. I was scared he was gonna kill you and I would be alone again, I was afraid of losing you cuz I didn’t want to be alone. So I’m sorry, ok? I saved you for me!”  
  
Dean started chuckling and Sam joined him, Morgan staring almost angry from one brother to the other.  
  
“Total Winchester,” Dean said to Sam with a smile, pulling bacon from the sizzling pan.  
  
“Yep,” Sam nodded and looked at his sister, glowering at him, “Whatever your reasons, Morgan, I’m glad you did it and I will help you figure out what happened, the Men of Letters will have an answer here somewhere I’m sure.”  
  
“You think?” she asked in disbelief.  
  
“Haven’t failed us yet,” he shrugged, returning to leaning against the counter with his beer, “let’s eat and then you and I can scour the library, ok?”  
  
“Ok,” Morgan smiled enthusiastically.  
  
“Well,” Dean was slathering pieces of bread with mayonnaise, “As much fun as that sounds I’m gonna be in the garage this afternoon.”  
  
Morgan was about to ask him why, but Sam rolled his eyes and turned towards his brother who was layering tomato slices and lettuce on mayonnaise soaked bread, “Dean I’m tellin’ you it’s nothin’! I’m sorry I even mentioned it!”  
  
“It’s not nothin’ Sam!” Dean hit the counter making the sandwich ingredients jump an inch, the mayonnaise jar knocked over on landing, “I could smell it was runnin’ lean on the way back, you heard somethin’ and kept drivin’ her!”  
  
Sam just looked away, Morgan could tell he was biting back words, but clearly knew further persistence of his side would end badly. Dean finished each sandwich with a top layer of bread, pushed Morgan’s across the counter towards her, grabbed his own plate and roughly dropped into a chair at the table. She joined him, taking the seat to his right and jamming a large bite of the sandwich into her mouth.  
  
“Deam! Dif if amafing!” Her muffled exclamation was accompanied by a small spray of mayonnaise, Morgan threw her hand over her mouth and glanced at Dean.  
  
He laughed and it left a small smile lingering on his recently severe face, “glad ya like it.”  
  
Sam joined them, sitting across from Morgan instead of Dean. He set a few napkins on the table, to which Morgan offered him thankful eyes as her mouth was again full of the delicious sandwich and wiped excess mayonnaise from her lips. She watched Sam continue to avert his eyes from Dean who was chewing slowly and staring at Sam as if he was solving a puzzle.  
  
“So, Sammy,” Dean set his sandwich down and stared at Sam, Morgan noticed Sam’s shoulders hunch a little, eyes still fixed on his own food, “Was it a high-pitched whine or more of a whirring sound?”  
  
Sam dipped his head and shot Dean a dirty look on the way up, “Dean,” he was frustrated, but his tone was imploring, “I swear, it started happening when I was almost there. It’s a sound, no weird vibrations, the tack didn’t do anything funny! I’m sure it’s just a worn belt.”  
  
Dean stared at him silent for a few moments before he smirked and calmly said, “I’m sure you’re right Sammy, master mechanic that you are,” and returned to his sandwich without another look Sam’s way.  
  
Sam opened his mouth to respond, but apparently decided it wasn’t worth it and rolled his eyes at his sandwich before taking a huge bite. Morgan glanced between them, silently pleased she wasn’t involved and continued munching the last of her lunch. Sam seemed to be in a hurry and finished his in three huge bites, stood up while still chewing and dumped his plate in the sink.  
  
“You ready?” He asked Morgan and she nodded at him, grabbing her own plate from the table as Sam grabbed a fresh beer from the fridge and made a gesture to ask if she wanted anything.  
  
“Yea, I’ll take a beer thanks,” and as she expected, Sam and Dean shared a look before fixing her with identical disapproving frowns and Dean opened his mouth to rebuke her, but Morgan burst out laughing, “Just kidding, you guys are easy,” and she giggled her way out of the room with a quick backwards glance at the two of them, the surprised looks they shared sent her into another bout of laughter that echoed down the hall.  
  
A moment later she heard a loud chorus of laughter from the kitchen and smiled to herself.  
0000000000000000000  
Sam’s ability to find random bits of information in obscure, ancient text seemed more like magic to Morgan than her ability to fly the books across the room at his request. However, after a few hours, Morgan had learned very little she didn’t know already know, but Sam was undeterred and continued to flip through page after page. He occasionally stopped to reread a passage before deciding it was unrelated and moved on. Sam was immersed in a huge leather bound book on the table and after several minutes, Morgan became bored and started pulling open a few drawers nearby. She wasn’t looking for anything in particular but on the third drawer she found a small, soft pink leather book under dried papers and a broken clipboard. It was such a strange thing to find in this generally dark place, Morgan’s curious hand wrapped around the small book and tugged it from where it was pinned under the jumble of forgotten office supplies.  
  
Opening the front cover, Morgan found it was a journal she was holding-  
  
'Property of Glinda the Good, Headmistress of OZ Academy'  
  
These words having absolutely no meaning to Morgan, she flipped the first page and started quickly scanning the first entry, but stopped abruptly she stared at the open journal in awe before slowly rereading the first page.  
  
'It has been recommended to me, in this difficult time of war looming on OZ, that I should record everything I can of the history happening around us now. The Wicked Witch of the West will absolutely not see reason on the death of her sister and this young hooligan, Dorothy, I’m supposed to be assisting is incapable of accepting any sort of constructive criticism to how she’s attempting to subdue the Witch.'  
  
Yes, she had definitely seen the word ‘witch’, but was disheartened at the word “wicked”.  
  
'Dorothy simply does not understand what she’s dealing with, but is she interested in seeking help from the rest of us witches, who have known the Wicked Witch all our lives, learning our craft at school together? Of course not! Even I, who has dedicated my life to teaching magical generations and has been highly recommended to her by the Highest Council of OZ themselves!'  
  
Morgan reread the few sentences until she was sure she understood it correctly. This journal belonged to the, albeit pompous, Headmistress of a school that taught magic, but such a place didn’t exist. Did it? She flipped a few more pages and skimmed past a few longwinded passages full of self-devotion, but stopped when she found class notes and student evaluations. For as detailed as this Glinda described herself, she was even more meticulous with her work as an educator. A full description of the day’s class objective, including directions, was consistently placed on the first page of each section, followed by a single page dedicated to each student. It must’ve been a small school because there were only four students referenced after every lesson plan. They studied the basics nearly exactly as Morgan’s Mother had taught her, though Morgan was sure with less extreme consequences for failure. Skipping further into the journal the lessons increased in difficulty, still nothing Morgan hadn’t seen before, but she halted on a page labeled: Scrying. Under the tiny, curled writing at the very bottom of the page and in a different ink (leading Morgan to believe it wasn’t written at the time of this lesson) were the words 'Advanced Scrying pg 126'.  
  
Morgan’s heart skipped and her fingers scurried through the pages quickly, having just noticed the diligent woman had indeed hand numbered each page in the top outside corner. On page 126 she stopped and pulled the book flat in her hands, absorbing every word.  
  
'Private Lesson with Phineas Gurlock, 3rd year- Advanced Scrying  
Phineas has shown great potential and understanding in all his subjects, however, upon his last scry session I asked him to look in on a family member and while he did not divulge the particulars to me he did get rather emotional about something he was seeing. He lost control, however, unlike what normally occurs which is to lose the session completely, Phineas became stronger in his dislocated self. It was as if he became less physically present in my classroom and somehow transferred himself, or his physical abilities, to where he was scrying. In fact, upon further investigation and asking family members (who also neglected to give details on what had occurred) they had certainly seen and heard Phineas’s presence, not to mention the evidence from the gaping hole in the side of their home.  
I have reached out to every learned witch or warlock I know and only one was able to shed any light on this unheard-of ability young Phineas seems to have. According to my own previous Headmaster, Percival the Powerful, while extremely rare, there are a few cases spread throughout different dimensions and many centuries of this kind of power manifesting in one witch or warlock. He himself informed me that our own Wicked Witch of the West had proven herself capable of this ability while she and I were here at school together! It seems very specific types of power can be combined to create these forces of nature, obviously, they must be born of magic, but he mentioned a few factors that when added to the equation can create a magical being of nearly unequal measure. Birth under a Spring equinox is essential, but the benefit to this can be multiplied by hundreds if it’s at the start of new century and Percival theorized power could be increased infinitely if that new century is a fresh millennium. Blood of non-humans seem to increase certain abilities as shown in one barely known witch who seemed to possess these powers, according to Percival, she was the great-granddaughter of Athena the warrior goddess of Greece (a country in the Earth dimension, I’ve never been, but heard it’s a horrid place). I have concluded that Phineas is a great deal more powerful than his schoolmates will ever hope to be, I can only imagine if he’d been born at the dawn of a new century! Although, I think I can safely say a magical child born under a Spring equinox of a new millennium, with god’s blood is not something the magical community will be seeing anytime soon.'  
  
Morgan reread the last paragraph three times, finally looking up to realize she’d somehow returned to the arm chair. Sam was still absorbed in one of the many large books on the table and Morgan made a weak attempt to call him that came out like a squeak.  
  
She cleared her throat and took a deep breath, “Sam, check this out.”  
  
“Whatcha got?” He turned immediately, jumping at the excuse to abandon the unhelpful stack of texts, and took the pink journal she offered him. He smirked at the cover, but as his eyes shifted back and forth across the words his eyebrows raised to his hairline and his strong chin nearly landed on his chest, “Holy crap.”  
  
He turned to her slowly and for a minute just stared back and forth from the page to Morgan and finally just stared at her, which she responded to with an exaggerated shrug and wide eyes. He stuttered at the page for a minute before looking back at her and exhaling hard, shaking his head in disbelief.  
  
“Sam,” Morgan’s mind was flooded with questions, but asked the one he might know the answer to, “where’s OZ?”  
  
He was taken aback by the question, expecting to stay on the topic of her very specifically timed birth and the affects, “Uh, it’s in another world, a different dimension, the Wizard of OZ ya know,” but Morgan shook her head, “Wow, ok, it’s pretty famous but I guess- well, it’s actually a real place, full of magic, we had a friend once who-,” but Sam stopped himself and Morgan saw grief pass over his eyes, “anyway, it’s not in this world.”  
  
“They have a school for magic,” Morgan said brightly, wanting to stay on topic, but hopefully stray from the clearly painful memories of an old friend.  
  
“Yea, like Hogwarts,” he nodded, a hint of a smile returning to the corners of his mouth.  
  
“What’s Hogwarts?” She asked excitedly.  
  
“Y’know, from Harry Potter?” Sam looked taken aback.  
  
“Who’s Harry Potter?” Morgan’s eyebrows were nearly touching in the confused look she was giving Sam.  
  
He let a small laugh escape, “Come by my room later, I have some books for you.”  
  
“Okay,” Morgan shrugged, then pointed to the page in the journal he still held, “I guess we know how I attacked that ghost.”  
  
“Yea,” said more to the open pages than her and started flipping through a few more, “So, this witch, Glinda, looks like she started focusing more on Phineas, most of the rest of these lesson plans are private classes with him. Morgan, this is seriously incredible what this kid was able to start doing, here look at this.”  
  
He showed her a page with sketches and incantations, she read through the description quickly, Glinda had taught Phineas to access a part of his mind that allowed him to detach his soul from his body. Whether he was successful or not, this was a detailed plan of how to walk among the spirit world while retaining physical magic. Beyond scrying, this allowed the user to have unlimited access seemingly anywhere.  
  
Morgan was flabbergasted. She wanted to say it was impossible, but she was looking at clear directions and they made perfect sense. At least they did to her, Sam’s face couldn’t have been more lost.  
  
“Is this- possible?” Sam handed her back the journal, staring down through pieces of hair at his sister.  
  
“Yea,” she nodded, eagerly running her eyes down the pages, “I think it might be.”  
  
“Hey, kids I-,” Sam and Morgan both started, having not heard Dean walk back in, “easy there, just me. I gotta go to the parts store, I’ll be back in a bit,” He gave both of them a questioning look and his eyes landed on the journal in Morgan’s hand, “Whatcha got?”  
  
Morgan flipped back to the page Glinda recanted her discovery of Phineas’s abilities and offered the open book to Dean. His eyes ran over the page, taking only slightly longer than Sam to reach the bottom, his eyebrows raised.  
  
“Holy crap,” he breathed and looked at Morgan in shock.  
  
“Yea,” Sam expelled a short laugh, “that’s what I said.”  
  
Dean flipped a few pages, glazing over the words without retention, before snapping the small journal shut and examining the pink cover, “Glinda the Good, Headmistress of OZ Academy. Is this like the chick in the bubble?”  
  
“Yea,” Sam nodded, neither noticing the deep confusion etched in Morgan’s face, “I mean, I doubt she rides in a bubble, considering how different we know the real OZ to be from the books, not to mention the movie.”  
  
Dean nodded absently having returned his attention to the journal, finding the page again describing the perfect scenario to create a magical being of seemingly limitless power.  
  
“Do you think your Mother knew about this?” Dean asked Morgan.  
  
She knew the answer the moment she’d read the page.  
  
“Absolutely,” she nodded, “I don’t know how, but at least I understand why she had me now,” simultaneously, her brothers cocked their heads to the right and knitted their eyebrows at her, “Mother did not want a child, her only interest was to learn and hoard as much magical knowledge as possible. It makes sense that if she learned how to create a witch of unlimited power she would, to add to the legacy she was so proud of, just an addition to her collection.”  
  
Neither Sam or Dean could find anything to say, and both just looked at her sadly. Morgan didn’t notice as she was still deeply pondering how her Mother had created her with cold calculations, “I wonder why she chose John? She planned me meticulously, so why a hunter?” At this she did catch their offended eyes, “I didn’t mean- it’s just- whether she knew about the god’s blood or not, she planned everything so perfectly, I just wonder why- he didn’t have magic.”  
  
Sam’s look seemed understanding and he shrugged at her, but Dean was still working through the insult.  
  
“Our Dad was a great man,” he said bitterly.  
  
“Dean,” Morgan pleaded, “that’s not-”  
  
“No, no, I get it-” Dean interrupted dismissively.  
  
“Dean!” Sam barked loudly, gaining both other their attention suddenly before continuing in a normal voice, “Shut up, you know that’s not what she meant and she has a point, although Morgan, your Mother was clearly a talented researcher and it wouldn’t surprise me if she somehow learned out Dad was a Men of Letters legacy or a descendant of Cain, you’re right, she had a detailed plan about you and definitely chose him for a reason.”  
  
“I’m glad it was him,” Morgan assured them, focusing her eyes on Dean, again examining the cover of the pink book, but she could tell he wasn’t really paying it any attention.  
Awkward silence filled the room for several long moments, and was thankfully broken by a blaring guitar riff exploding from Dean’s jeans pocket. He dropped the pink journal unceremoniously on the table and dug out his phone.  
  
“Yea?” he quickly turned down the stairs, the phone pressed against his head, obviously glad of the distraction.  
  
As Dean turned the corner, Morgan flung herself into the armchair and heaved a defeated sigh.  
  
“Morgan-,” Sam began, but she threw her hands up cutting him off.  
  
“It’s like the second I think he doesn’t hate me I say something stupid and he-”  
  
“Morgan, it’s not you,” Sam pulled a chair out and sat right in front of her, “and it’s nothing you said, he’s always gonna be touchy when Dad gets brought up, he doesn’t hate you. Seriously,” dipping his head to make eye contact with the sulking girl in front of him, “he told me how much he liked hangin’ out with you the other day and you have no idea how worried he was when he couldn’t get ahold of you. We raced back here, Morgan, I couldn’t even keep up with him the last few miles. All last night he kept checkin’ on you, he didn’t even sleep, no, don’t feel bad,” Sam caught the guilty flash in her eyes, “what I’m saying is he cares about you, and that’s not gonna change.”  
  
Morgan gave Sam a small smile, but didn’t have time to say anything as Dean bound back up the stairs, phone still tight in his hand.  
  
“That was Cas,” he said to Sam and shifted his gaze to Morgan seated in the chair, “They found Rowena,” she felt a chill seep through her at the witch’s name, but kept her face as neutral as possible, eyes fixed on Dean as he continued, “He’s buyin’ that she was being controlled by Lucifer, apparently she managed to put a spell on him to speed up his vessel burning out and sent him to the bottom of the ocean,” Dean looked slightly impressed, but Morgan’s face was unchanged.  
  
“So, Lucifer’s gone?” She asked unhopefully, knowing the answer.  
  
“She definitely slowed him down,” Dean shrugged, “but no, he’ll be back, and he’ll be pissed.”  
  
“Great,” Morgan rolled her eyes, sinking further into the chair.  
  
“Morgan,” Dean crouched next to the chair and put a hand on her knee, “I told you, we’re not gonna let that snake anywhere near you, that’s a promise. Talkin’ to Cas, I think Rowena might be useful here with the information she’s gotten from him lately-,” but Dean halted as both Morgan and Sam and snapped shocked, glaring expressions at him, “look, I’m not in love with the idea either, but Cas and Crowley-”  
  
“Crowley!” Sam shouted, jumping to his feet, “When do we stop taking advice from that limey jackass?!”  
  
Morgan expected Dean to explode at Sam, but he just hung his head, stretching both hands hard across his neck. Even Sam seemed taken aback by this uncharacteristic response, but remained standing in a somewhat defensive position. Dean looked up at Morgan, his face full of pain and sadness.  
  
“I don’t know what to do here,” he let out a defeated sigh, “as much as it makes me sick, we need all the help we can get and Rowena has spent the last few weeks as a slave to Lucifer, she has information we could use, not to mention she has the Book of the Damned and the power to use it. Morgan, if there was any other way-”  
  
“There has to be-” Sam interjected angrily.  
  
“There’s not, Sam!” Dean barked at him, finally standing to his full height and managing to make his much taller brother cower a little at the sudden wrath, “Think about it! She’s the only one who can put him back in the cage! We’ve known we’ll need her help, this just makes it more complicated,” he finished with a thoughtless gesture towards Morgan.  
  
A stab of fresh guilt mixed with renewed fear of having burdened them with her presence manifested as hot tears behind Morgan’s eyes. Neither of the brothers were looking at her as they continued to debate each other loudly. She couldn’t bear the thought of breaking down in front of them again, but the tightness in her throat was unrelenting. Slowly, she got up from the chair, slipped around the shouting pair and hurried down the steps.  
  
“Morgan!” Dean’s rough voice had not switched from his tone with Sam as he noticed her sneaking away and at his loud, angry call Morgan jumped and dissolved into tears before tearing down the hallway as fast as she could.  
  
Heavy boots pounded the tile behind her, but she skidded into her bedroom and slammed the door, quickly securing the lock. She heard them approaching as she slid to the floor with her back on the door, sniveling.  
  
“Morgan,” Sam’s gentle voice spoke, but was immediately overpowered by a few loud pounds that shook Morgan more than her cries.  
  
“Dean, stop!” she heard Sam plead angrily and waited for more pounding, but it didn’t come.  
  
“Morgan,” Dean sounded like he was forcing himself to be calm, “can you please come out and talk to us?”  
  
Her crying had subsided enough to speak, but she didn’t know what to say, part of her felt ridiculous but part of her was so furious at the entire situation she couldn’t stand it. The person who kept promising to protect her wanted to work with the witch responsible for her Mother’s death and definitely saw her as a complication, regardless of what he’d said. Reason and logic be damned, Morgan just wanted all of it to go away.  
  
“Leave me alone!” She cried, sounding, even to herself, like a child.  
  
“That’s it,” she heard Dean growl, “Sam, move!”  
  
“What’re you gonna do, break it down?” Morgan heard Sam scoff.  
  
“Kid, you’ve got to the count of three or I’m kickin’ this door in!” Morgan’s heart skipped, she had no doubt he would do it.  
  
“One!” the reality of how angry Dean would be if he actually had to break down the door was motivation enough for Morgan to scurry to her feet, “Two!” she unclicked the lock and in one last rebellious action flung herself face down on the bed leaving the unlocked door shut.  
  
Not for long, as Dean barged in barely before she’d even fully landed on the bed, Sam on his heels. Dean stood over the bed, glowering down at her, but Morgan refused to look at him.  
  
“What the hell?” Dean softened his tone, but his hands on his hips and straddled stance said he was at the end of his rope.  
  
Morgan didn’t answer, keeping her face turned away from him and shrugged into her pillow. It wasn’t like her and she couldn’t understand where these feelings and actions were coming from. She wished the emotions constantly bursting inside her would stop.  
  
“Please, kid,” Dean growled through gritted teeth, “I can’t read your mind, I’m not a psychic.”  
  
“I used to be,” Sam said surprisingly nonchalantly and Morgan finally turned her head, scoffing through sniffles in disbelief at her brother.  
  
“Where did the freak out come from?” she felt Dean’s weight sink the side of her bed and turned to lean against the headboard.  
  
“I’m the ‘this’ that makes everything more complicated,” she forced out his words, wiping tears from her cheeks and watched as his face fell.  
  
“Oh,” he looked to Sam who returned him an accusing glare, “but you know that’s not what I meant, Morgan we’ve been over this,” he shook his head and hinted a smile, “you do complicate things, but first of all, this is complicated whether you’re in it or not and second,” he paused and grabbed her leg giving it a playfully rough shake, “what do I have to do to make you realize we want you here?”  
  
“I’m sorry,” she burst into another quick bout of tears that ended with the apology, “I just keep getting overwhelmed, it’s like I can finally release an emotion without fear of Mother’s – disapproval, and I can’t stop now. I’m trying, really, I am,” she nodded imploringly at them individual.  
  
“And whatever we can do to help we will,” Sam pronounced and Dean nodded in agreement immediately.  
  
“I’d like to have a real conversation about the reality of our situation, though” Dean’s eyes narrowed a little at her, “I said I would let you help with our plan, but we are gonna need help from Rowena too. I can understand if that’s too much for you to handle, but unfortunately, kid-”  
  
“I’m fine,” Morgan said suddenly, looking him hard in the eyes, “I can handle it. I just-” she let out a frustrated growl, “there’s so much! I just need a minute, ok? All this Lucifer stuff was just starting to sink in and then that journal from another dimension, basically described the impossibility of my existence and now I’m supposed to forgive the witch who killed my Mother-”  
  
“Woah, woah, woah,” Dean waved a hand, his brow furrowed, “who said anything about forgiving her?” Morgan stared back at him and wracked her memory for the words that weren’t there, “I’d never ask that, I know I couldn’t if I were you. You don’t have to like her, hell hate her, but we need to work with her to take Lucifer down.”  
  
Morgan nodded at him, feeling much calmer at his last words, but feeling the urge for comfort, absently wrapped her arms around herself. Dean shook his head in amused exasperation, grabbed her leg again, easily pulling her across the bed and wrapped his strong arms around her.  
  
“Damnit, brat,” he kissed her forehead and looked down at her, “just talk to us, ok?”  
  
She nodded at him and looked up at Sam, who’d taken a step towards the bed, “Sam?”  
  
“Yea?” he looked concerned and caring, ready to offer whatever comfort he could.  
  
“Can I see that Hogwarts book?”  
  
Her abrupt change of topic sent both brothers into lively laughter. Sam was still chuckling as he nodded and left to retrieve the promised book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I'm not overwhelming anyone with these quick updates! I'm currently writing the second installment of Morgan's story so the first one's getting put up here quickly. Really hope you're enjoying and love to hear what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *I don't own Supernatural* 
> 
> Morgan has another nightmare and what can Rowena add to this already complicated situation?

Morgan’s dreams were yet again intruded by the giant dragon, breathing fire and gaining on her as she ran frantically through the bunker alone. Again, she yelled for Sam and Dean, but couldn’t find them anywhere as the beast clawed at her back. Once more, she turned to face it, unable to run anymore, the fiery red eyes bore down on her. All she could see were those awful red eyes.  
  
“Hey, hey, hey,” she heard a soft voice and felt her hair being brushed gently from her face, Sam was leaning over her with a concerned expression, “I came in to check on you, you looked like you were havin’ a nightmare.”  
  
Morgan felt cold as she untangled the blankets and realized she was drenched in sweat, her t-shirt clinging uncomfortably to her skin. She nodded at him, “I was, I had it last night too,” looking timidly at Sam through the darkness she breathed the last words in nearly a whisper, “I think its him, Sam.”  
  
Unable to see his features in the blackness of the room, Morgan still recognized the immediate anxiety on Sam’s face.  
  
He kept his voice calm and settled himself on the side of the bed, “What happened?”  
  
“He was chasing me through the halls and I couldn’t find you or Dean, he caught me and- and then you woke me up,” she saw the blaring red eyes every time she shut her own.  
  
“He didn’t talk to you?” Sam questioned.  
  
“He was a dragon,” Morgan replied as if this was common knowledge.  
  
“Oh,” she saw him look confused briefly before a small smile raised his cheeks, “That is scary,” he nodded and rubbed her shoulder, “but it was just a dream, I’m here, Dean’s here, no dragons- plus we’ve taken them down before too.”  
  
Morgan’s eyes widened as an image of Sam and Dean with medieval swords slaying a scaly beast flashed in her mind, but remembering Dean’s allusive response to her concerns about Lucifer’s tactics she blurted the words faster than she was thinking them, “But Dean said he would use my dreams- and now its twice I’ve had that one-”  
  
Sam gently shook the shoulder his hand still laid on, “Hey, hey, relax, you had a nightmare, but that’s not what Dean meant,” he took a deep breath, “Lucifer came to me in dreams as my girlfriend, Jessica, he’ll make himself someone you care about, someone you can’t refuse,” Sam’s face fell for a moment before he gathered himself, “If, he can find you, but he won’t. With all the protection surrounding you, even if he does manage to get into your head while your sleeping, he can’t get his hands on you.”  
  
Morgan didn’t much like the idea of her unconscious mind being intruded on by the devil and hugged her knees to herself, quietly examining the frayed threads of her blanket. Lucifer portrayed himself as someone his victim cares for, she shook her head away from the terrible thoughts of her brothers’ faces contorted with the terrible red eyes in her dream.  
  
“But he found you,” she said quietly, “you have the anti-angel stuff on your ribs too.”  
  
“I do,” Sam nodded, “but he didn’t find me, I found him.”  
  
Morgan’s jaw dropped, “W-why?”  
  
He smiled sadly, “It was the only way.”  
  
“But,” Morgan’s confusion was clear, “he- you said he came to you in dreams.”  
  
“Yea, but he was still lookin’ for me then, tryin’ to convince me to let him find me,” Sam gestured to the room around them, “plus, we didn’t have this place before and you, of all people, know how protected it is.”  
  
Morgan nodded, the bunker was certainly better warded than any place she’d ever been before.  
  
“The nightmare you had,” Sam continued, “sounds like completely rational fear, but just a dream. Lucifer is clever and manipulative, a fire breathing dragon is not his style.”  
  
Sam’s smile was comforting and as Morgan let his words sink in she knew he must be right, after all, he knew the devil better than anyone.  
  
He picked up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone from next to her pillow and purposefully changed the topic, “How’d you like it so far?”  
  
She brightened immediately, pushing Lucifer from her mind and quickly recounting the entire story to Sam’s astounded expression.  
  
“You finished it?” he scoffed in surprise, “I gave it to you a few hours ago!”  
  
“It was really good,” Morgan shrugged, “Can I borrow the next one?”  
  
Sam had shown her the whole series and a few others she was eager to pour through.  
  
“Sure, of course,” he was still thumbing the large book with lingering shock, “Um- it’s really early, though, don’t you wanna go back to sleep? You’ve only had a couple hours.”  
  
She shook her head instantly. It may have been just a dream, but she wasn’t enthusiastic to return to the empty bunker and dragon chase.  
  
“Why are you up?” she asked Sam, realizing he was still fully dressed.  
  
Sam’s head dipped briefly in what looked like shame to Morgan, “We’ve been workin’.”  
  
She gave him a wary look and when he didn’t continue she felt her stomach twist, “She’s here, isn’t she?”  
  
Sam’s lack of response and guilt ridden face were answer enough. Emotions rising to control again, Morgan jumped from the bed and strode at the door determinedly in a t-shirt and an old pair of Dean’s shorts, nearly reaching the handle before she felt her feet leave the floor. Dangling helplessly in Sam’s strong grip he flipped the light on with his other hand and carried her back to the bed, kicking wildly. Unceremoniously dropping her on the bunched blanket, he quickly held a firm grip on her upper arms, forcing her to stay seated.  
  
“Sam, let me go!” she cried and wriggled, but his hold was much stronger than she was.  
  
“Morgan, stop,” he didn’t yell, but the stern tone was such a close duplicate to Dean’s, for a moment, she was sure he’d entered the room.  
  
“S-s-sam,” she broke into bout of frustrated tears, but allowed them to fall, hoping Sam would take pity and let her go. He did not.  
  
“Remember our talk earlier?” He asked, hands still firmly on her arms, “Morgan, I won’t blame Dean if he decides you can’t handle bein’ a part of this.”  
  
Her cries ceased immediately as she stared at Sam. Begrudgingly, she took a long, shuddering breath and thought of their earlier conversation in the same room. Noticing her rigid frame relax, Sam released her arms, but remained between her and door.  
  
“Morgan,” he waited until her eyes were on his, “No one would blame you if this is too much, but personally, I think you’re tougher than this,” Sam’s tone was not harsh, but matter-of-fact, “and you’re a Winchester, so you don’t get a choice. You need to stop lettin’ your emotions get the best of you, if you can learn to control yourself you’re gonna be unstoppable, I know it and so do you. Right?”  
  
She nodded slowly at him, she felt a strange new respect for Sam growing inside her.  
  
He smirked, “Good, girl. Now, I gotta get back, but I’ll get that book for you,” he turned to leave and Morgan leapt to her feet.  
  
“Sam,” she forced herself to keep a calm tone, “can I- can I please come with you?”  
  
He looked disheartened at her, releasing the doorknob, “I’d prefer you hang out in here, just after everything today,” Morgan felt that awful tightness return and was filled with self-hatred, knowing her inability to control exactly this was why she was being excluded.  
  
“I’m s-sorry,” she choked through gritted teeth, took several deep breaths until the rile of tears subsided, “I will be calm, I promise.”  
  
He shook his head, “No, Morgan, I think it’s a bad idea.”  
  
“Please,” she was as stoic as she could possibly be, but felt if he refused she would scream.  
  
Sam sighed deeply, “I’ll ask Dean,” opening the door with his eyes still on her, “stay here, I’ll be right back. I mean it, Morgan,” eyeing her with slight distrust, she sat hard on the bed, he nodded curtly and shut the door on his way out.  
  
Not five minutes later, both brothers came back to Morgan’s room. She had changed into jeans and a shirt that wasn’t sticky with sweat, but returned to sitting on the bed waiting, feigning patience. She stood as Dean walked through the door with Sam right behind him, neither looked amused.  
  
“So y’know,” Dean started, “I’ve already said no, but Sam insisted you could handle it.”  
  
Morgan caught Sam’s eyebrow’s raise at her over Dean’s shoulder and hid a smile, “I can, I will,” she said urgingly to his hardened face, “please, Dean.”  
  
Dean turned to Sam, “You sure about this?”  
  
Sam looked at Morgan and nodded, “Yea, she’ll be good.”  
  
Feeling he was out numbered, Dean shook his head exasperatedly and said slightly threateningly to Morgan, “You better be,” she nodded eagerly at him, but he’d already turned back to Sam, “Give me a minute and then bring’er in,” with that Dean stalked off down the hall.  
  
Before Morgan could enthusiastically thank Sam for his influence, he turned and gave her a very severe look, “I didn’t tell him about your most recent explosion, he never would have said yes, so don’t make me regret it, ok?”  
  
“Thank you,” she smiled sweetly at him, looking up through her eyelashes she watched his expression soften.  
  
“Ok, c’mon,” and she followed Sam down the hall, back into the library.  
  
As they got closer, Morgan heard Dean’s low growl in a harshly demanding tone she was glad wasn’t directed at her, “You don’t talk to her, you don’t even look at her. Am I understood?”  
  
“Perfectly, dear,” said the sing-song, accented voice of a woman. Morgan felt a shiver run through her again, but gathered her nerves and ignored the ominous feeling.  
  
Turning the corner, a head of bright red hair whipped around and Morgan saw the same face she’d seen for a split-second days before as the front door had flown across the living room. It was suddenly harder to not feel nauseous, but she was determined and took a quiet, deep breath. Sam had put a protective arm around her shoulders and stopped short at the bottom of the steps.  
  
“Oh my dear! Look at-,” Rowena had taken a step towards Morgan, arms spread as far as the handcuffs she wore would allow as if trying to embrace the young girl, but was viciously interrupted.  
  
Morgan gasped, having never seen Dean display real violence, he’d forced the witch roughly into the nearest bookcase with a thick forearm and pressed a quickly drawn knife to her throat. Sam had pushed Morgan behind him, impeding her view of Dean’s attack.  
  
“What did I JUST say?!” Dean barked so loud Morgan jumped, but peering around Sam, she saw Rowena looked amused.  
  
“Yes, yes,” she cooed at him, “I won’t speak to the girl, lapse of memory darling, can’t hardly blame me at my age.”  
  
Dean narrowed his eyes further, glaring at her through slits, but he pushed away from her and walked directly towards his siblings. He jerked his head at Sam, who instantly bound up the stairs.  
  
“Ah, Samuel,” her voice was sickly sweet, “back again.”  
  
Morgan heard Sam snap, “shut up” as Dean walked her behind the wall, just out of eyesight from the library.  
  
“You don’t have to do this,” he stared down at her, Morgan looked as tough as she could.  
  
“I need to,” she said simply, days of working through confusing emotions had finally gotten her here, where she needed answers, “and I want to talk to her.”  
  
Dean didn’t look remotely surprised, “Ok, kid,” he nodded once and hesitantly moved to let her walk back to the large room, striding protectively ahead.  
  
As they walked up the stairs, Morgan noticed Castiel standing in the back of the room over a large book and wondered if he’d bothered to even look up when Dean assaulted the witch. Who was sitting at the table silently watching Morgan walk up the stairs with a mysterious smile curling the corners of her mouth. Morgan glared at her, despite her insides feeling like they’d been bathed in ice water, the redheaded witch giggled at her and a hot rage instantly rose.  
  
Seeing the fire in his sister’s eyes, Dean put out an arm to stop her advancing closer to Rowena, but the witch stopped giggling and addressed Dean, “I could’ve guessed she’s your sister by those angry green eyes, goodness didn’t you think you were looking into a mirror?” Dean and Morgan looked at each other and realize at that moment they did, in fact, have the same eyes, quickly they both snapped their identical glares back at Rowena, who crooned, “adorable.”  
  
“You killed my Mother,” Morgan spit out, noticing Dean’s hand wrapped tightly around her wrist, she found his immediate presence gave her strength and calm, silently she hoped he didn’t let go.  
  
“Doesn’t beat around the bush, does she?” Rowena smiled at Sam, glowering at her as he leaned against a bookcase, she switched her gaze to Dean, “May I speak to her, since she clearly wants to speak to me?”  
  
Morgan heard an actual growl in Dean’s throat before he spoke, “If you so much as upset her, I will end you.”  
  
“Promises, promises,” she laughed and responded in the same sweetly innocent tone, “Not to worry, Dean dear, you can stow the scary big brother act, you know I mean her no harm. Now, do I have your permission to speak with the girl?”  
  
“My name is Morgan,” before Dean could even nod, she’d replied without a hint of the shaking she felt in her knees.  
  
Rowena finally turned her gaze to Morgan and smiled, “Yes, dear, and until recently that was your only name,” the icy feeling returned, “I did, upon Lucifer’s orders, attack your Mother, but, not that it makes much difference to you I’m sure, Lucifer killed her.”  
  
Morgan’s stomach turned. He had been there, that night, perhaps just moments behind Rowena’s attack. Her Mother had gotten her out just in time, for all the hatred she felt for the woman, she found herself wishing she could thank her for that ultimate sacrifice.  
  
“He was coming for you,” Rowena continued, eyeing Morgan intently, as if she was reading her mind and hoping to encourage the guilt coursing through the young girl.  
  
“How did he find out about her?” Dean asked firmly.  
  
“You do realize that Lucifer can smell power?” she scoffed at Dean dismissively and looked back to Morgan, “You turned sixteen a few months ago?” Morgan offered a short nod in affirmation and Rowena looked at her almost lovingly, “The first of many milestones for a witch, for most with a natural talent it’s just the beginnings of magic abilities, quite a shock for most, but everything about you is extraordinary, isn’t it?” A flicker of jealousy seemed to seep into her words, “He’s been feeling your power growing since the Spring and without the opportunity for better options,” here she let her eyes linger on Sam for a moment before continuing, “has been hunting for a vessel that could hold him. When he sensed your unnatural amount of power, he started searching. But Ceralia was always advanced at protection spells and he was only able to locate your approximate location. Until of course, my lovely son abandoned me after a failed attempt to put Lucifer back in his cage and I was forced to do his bidding. Sadly, darling, I have to admit I was the one who pointed him in your direction. Ceralia and I have known each other many years, we were members of the same Grand Coven and I remember the whispered rumors about your Mother’s wild theory,” Rowena paused dramatically, eyeing Morgan with a knowing smirk, “that given the perfect conditions, she could create a witch of unparalleled power.”  
  
Morgan just continued glaring at the witch, but inconspicuously pressed Dean’s hand to her side in a silent plea not to let go. He squeezed her wrist in reassurance that he understood.  
  
“Of course,” Rowena continued in her velvety voice, “it wasn’t until I spotted your Mother in town that evening that I even remembered the experiment she’d been planning over twenty years ago, but it seemed too perfect a coincidence she’d be where he tracked the source and on my encouragement, we followed her. She knew of course, your Mother, undoubtedly, she recognized me and I’m sure she sensed the enormous presence that Lucifer is, even with his powers broken. She only just got you out, of course smart enough to send you with an untraceable hex, Lucifer snapped her neck while she laughed at him,” Rowena smiled proudly, never wavering her eyes from Morgan’s.  
  
“But how did he find out she’s our sister?” Sam stepped forward, effectively flanking Morgan between himself and Dean.  
  
“He didn’t,” Rowena’s smile remained fixed, “I only learned from Fergus and your angel friend after risking myself to banish-”  
  
“Cut the crap,” Dean snapped, “you saved yourself. If Lucifer doesn’t know she’s our sister, why did he go after her?”  
  
“What don’t you understand about unparalleled power?” She scoffed at him before nodding to Morgan, “Winchester or not, this girl is destined to be one of the most powerful humans the world has ever seen. All he sees is power,” she giggled to herself, “He thinks you must be a boy, he missed your exit the other night and I decided not to correct him. Oh, if he knew,” she shook her head with amusement, “if he knew how perfect you are for him. Darling, there would be no escape.”  
  
Sam, Dean and Morgan just looked at each other, each of their expressions mirroring the others’ shock.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell him I was a girl?” the question was pressing on Morgan’s tongue, it seemed unlikely Rowena would do anything helpful without selfish cause. Morgan couldn’t help but be reminded of her Mother looking at the smug woman sitting at the table and felt a begrudging respect growing.  
  
Rowena giggled again, “I enjoy watching chauvinism be the downfall of powerful men. Lucifer, while not exactly a man, has blinded himself in his pursuit to the top in the same way many mortals have, with dire consequences. Truthfully, my dear, the moment I saw you whip out of my site I’ve been rooting for you, sisterhood solidarity or something, you’re going to be quite the shock when he finds you.”  
  
“That’s not happening,” Dean said firmly.  
  
“Keep telling yourself that, dear,” she smiled sarcastically, “you know as well as I, he will eventually pull himself from the bottom of the ocean and continue his search with renewed fury. We can hope he gives up on her for other, more convenient vessels, but he will certainly come after those who have wronged him anyway, myself and you boys I’m sure have top spots on his list. Then he will find her and now that she’s with you I’m sure it won’t take him long to figure out who her father was. Your protection might very well be what gives her away,” Rowena finished with a long, well-polished finger against her lips, contorted in pretend shock.  
  
“This is still the best scenario we could have hoped for,” Castiel joined the conversation in his normal matter-of-fact tone, “It will take a while for Lucifer to get back into a usable vessel, we have time to prepare now.”  
  
“And what’s the plan?” Morgan asked, shifting her eyes to Castiel.  
  
“To put the devil back in his cage,” Castiel spoke slowly and looked at Morgan with confusion.  
  
“Yea, thanks I figured out the end goal,” she sneered at the angel, “how ‘bout the steps gettin’ there?”  
  
Castiel shot Dean a disgruntled look, Dean returned it with a proud smirk and shrug.  
  
“It’ll need to be a group effort,” Castiel continued, abandoning Dean for assistance and returning his attention to Morgan, “but I think this time with your additional power, you and Rowena should be able to-”  
  
“Wait, what?” Both Sam and Dean snapped at Castiel, Dean released her wrist and absently pushed Morgan behind them, so again her view of the room was impeded by a wall of flannel.  
  
“With both of them using the Book of the Damned against him we’ll have a much higher chance of succeeding,” Castiel continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted.  
  
“I can’t do that kind of magic!” Morgan edged her way around Sam, wide eyes shifting between Castiel and Rowena.  
  
“Oh, you can,” Rowena said dismissively, eyes on her highly-polished nails, “once I’ve trained you up some.”  
  
Morgan was so taken aback by her statement she hadn’t noticed the immediate uproar from Sam and Dean. Castiel had thrown his hands into a defensive position, but Rowena remained more interested in examining her nails. While they raged at the angel, Morgan moved directly in front of the witch and sat opposite at the table. Rowena looked up from her nails and quickly hid her surprise seeing Morgan across from her with a determined expression.  
  
“Why would you want to teach me anything?” Morgan asked with suspicion, witches were not typically generous with their knowledge.  
  
Rowena appraised the young girl in front of her with a quick swipe of her eyes and with a satisfied smile responded simply, “To survive, my dear.”  
  
The older and younger witch stared at each other for several moments, not noticing the room had gone silent around them.  
  
“You knew my Mother?” Despite her resolve to hate Rowena, Morgan was filled with questions only she could answer.  
  
“I did,” Rowena gave her another sly smile, “A very talented witch, but a horrible woman.”  
  
Morgan didn’t respond, but silently agreed and waited for Rowena to continue.  
  
“When I heard the rumors years ago, her mad ideas from other dimensions, that she planned to create a magical child of unequal power,” she let out a short laugh, “Well you can imagine how silly it seemed. I thought Ceralia was less suited to motherhood than I was, and I understand you’ve met my son,” she smiled cynically, “Several of us were convinced she would realize her plan had left her with an unwanted child, no more magical than the next, and expected she would just kill the poor little thing, if she went through with it at all. The Grand Coven was dismantled shortly after, your Mother fled like the rest of us, and I didn’t concern myself with her pointless plans further. Though now sits in front of me proof that she did indeed know what she was doing,” Rowena nodded approvingly at Morgan before narrowing her eyes, “Have you always been able to do magic?”  
  
Morgan offered a quick nod, keeping her eyes on Rowena, who remained smug, but resentment past over her face. Sam and Dean were standing so close to the back of her chair she felt a slight rocking at each of their heavy breaths.  
  
“I am willing,” she continued haughtily, “to teach you what we’ll need to do to return Lucifer to Hell. You are destined to be more powerful than me, and in short time I dare say,” she flashed a suspicious smile at Morgan and let her gaze linger above her on Sam and Dean, “and I’m afraid I can see you have already cemented your loyalties.”  
  
“Yes I have,” Morgan nodded and felt heavy hands on both of her shoulders.  
  
Rowena assessed the scene before her with a bored expression before shaking her head and scoffing to herself, “Winchesters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really hope you're enjoying this story :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *I don't own Supernatural*
> 
> The team starts to create their plan against Lucifer and Morgan manages to sneak a trip out of the bunker with Dean...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters because you're meeting a character who will become a much bigger player a lot later on :) 
> 
> Enjoy and I look forward to hearing what you think.

For several hours, Rowena and Morgan spoke under the supervision of her brothers and Castiel. Despite her determination to hate the older witch, Morgan understood Rowena, she didn’t blame her for acting in survival and it actually did change her feelings that Rowena hadn’t dealt the fatal blow to her Mother. In many ways, Rowena reminded her of the proud and stoic witch who’d raised her, but in others Rowena seemed unexpectedly more human, at least better humored.  
  
The knowledge that Lucifer was, at least for the time being, less of a threat seemed to break the tension in the bunker. After one particularly loud growl from Morgan’s stomach, Dean decided the meeting needed a break for sustenance.  
  
“I’m gonna grab some burgers,” Dean announced and started to leave the library.  
  
“Dean?” Morgan had jumped up, cabin fever setting in after days in the windowless fortress, “Can I come with, please?”  
  
She knew he was going to refuse based on the initial look he gave her, so was very surprised when he smiled slightly and shrugged, “Sure, c’mon.”  
  
Morgan leapt the last few stairs in her enthusiasm to leave the bunker and Dean laughed heartily, giving her a playful push. She returned it with a hard shove, that did little more than move him an inch, and stuck her tongue out at him, but quickly found her head pinned under his arm and felt her hair being roughly tousled. Dean let go and started running down the hall before Morgan could retaliate. She chased him as fast as she could while dissolving into giggles. She caught up to him at the garage, both of them heaving through subsiding laughter. Morgan didn’t know where the sudden outburst had come from, but felt better than she had in days.  
  
They were still smiling as the Impala made the familiar turns out of the tunnel and into the bright light of late morning. Morgan felt renewed as the sunlight warmed her face and rolled down the window to stick her arm into the wind.  
  
“Thank you,” Morgan smiled at Dean from the passenger seat that was usually Sam’s.  
  
“For what?”  
  
“This,” she looked back out the window, closing her eyes to the light, letting the warmth and wind wash over her.  
  
“No problem, kid,” he smiled and punched the accelerator sending her into another torrent of excited giggles as they roared down the open country road.  
  
Lebanon looked much different to Morgan in the day time. She saw Mel’s diner and was unsurprised to see Gary wasn’t sleeping in the back booth, as the place was packed with patrons. People were walking on the sidewalk, kids on bikes and skateboards flew past the car as Dean slowed at the corner. He pulled into a gas station just down the street, the Impala grumbled to an idle and Dean cut the engine.  
  
“Stay here,” he said automatically with a twinge of a warning in his eyes.  
  
Morgan was initially offended, but silently admitted she’d earned the constant reminders from her brothers not to wander. The warm breeze blew through her open window as she watched Dean walk into the gas station and disappear behind a display for energy drinks. Morgan closed her eyes again to the sunlight, taking in the happy screams of children and the crackling music playing from the gas station speakers.  
  
“Nice car,” a nearby voice made her eyes fly open to see a young man with a baseball cap, ripped jeans and black t-shirt approaching the Impala. A few of his friends watched, but stayed near the brick wall across the lot crunching their empty pop cans and talking loudly.  
  
“It’s my brother’s,” she couldn’t think of what to say to this rather good looking boy, who was now leaning on the open window with a look Morgan didn’t quite understand.  
  
“Well, you look pretty good in it,” he smiled strangely, Morgan felt an uncomfortable warmth in the pit of her stomach spread to her face and knew she was a faint shade of pink, “but you’d look better in my car.”  
  
She narrowed her eyes at him, confused, “I’m good here, thanks.”  
  
He let out a low whistle and smiled strangely at her again, adding a wink before continuing, “I love a chase, I haven’t seen you around here. You go to LHS?”  
  
She shook her head, but didn’t offer the boy anything else, wishing he would stop leaning in the window because the strange feeling in her stomach was growing. Morgan didn’t understand why he was giving her this attention and was surprised to notice she was enjoying it as much as she wanted it to stop. The flush on her cheeks growing darker when she glanced up again, he was definitely cute.  
  
“Walk away,” an angry, low growl made the boy’s smile falter.  
  
Morgan sighed a little with relief seeing Dean stop a foot from the young man, towering over him even though he was only a few inches taller. The boy tried to look unintimidated as he quickly retracted his hands to his sides, standing to his full height facing Dean. Dean’s expression hardened as the boy made no moves to leave.  
  
“I was just introducin’ myself,” he seemed to find his swagger again and smirked at Dean, “you must be the brother.”  
  
“Which means you’ve got about half a second to get away from my sister and my car before I lay you out,” Dean smirked back and Morgan stifled a giggle.  
  
The young man gave one last amused look with a wink to Morgan, glared at Dean without another word and skulked off towards his laughing friends. He punched one of them in the shoulder hard, effectively ceasing their laughter, and they followed him around the corner and out of sight.  
  
Dean shook his head, chuckling to himself as he shoved a gas nozzle behind the hinged rear license plate and wretched open the driver’s door, sliding onto the black leather. He looked over at Morgan, still smiling and shaking his head.  
  
“What?” she laughed warily, unsure what was so funny.  
  
“I was gone thirty seconds and you’ve got boys hangin’ on you,” he gave her shoulder a playful shake, “guess I shouldn’t be surprised, just not somethin’ I had to worry about with Sammy.”  
  
“What?” Morgan stared at him in complete confusion, “I don’t know why he was talkin’ to me, he just came over!”  
  
“Of course he did,” Dean scoffed with a knowing expression.  
  
“Why?” Morgan raised her eyebrows earnestly.  
  
Dean smiled, “Cause you’re beautiful, sweetheart,” a loud click sounded from behind the Impala and he slid out of the seat.  
  
Morgan scoffed at his turned back and with a look of deep incredulity, then craned her neck to look in the passenger side-view mirror. The familiar sharp features on her thin, youthful face stared back; high cheekbones framed her bright green eyes beneath arched eyebrows and long black eyelashes, her small nose was slightly upturned over pale pink lips set in a natural pout. She didn’t see anything special, nothing compared to her Mother’s renown beauty. Her Mother had often, cruelly, referred to her as “green eyed monster” and “little piggy” after those two features that clearly hadn’t followed after her genes. Perhaps this was why her eyes and nose had always been Morgan’s favorites, the only pieces of her she knew had to have been from her father.  
  
Dean returned to the driver’s seat, turning the Impala over with an impressive roar and slowly pulled into the street. Morgan looked at Dean’s profile, as he surveyed the road ahead, and noticed his nose, though larger than hers, had a slight upturn. The corners of her mouth curled into a small smile, Dean felt her gaze and glanced over just in time to see the amused expression she was giving him.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothin’,” she giggled and looked out the window again at the passing buildings.  
  
He pulled into a large parking lot with a colorful, but rundown building in the middle, the windows covered in advertisements for burgers, shakes and onion rings, and parked in a front spot by the door.  
  
“You’re comin’ in with me this time,” he nodded at the window, “roll that up.”  
  
She cranked the handle a few times, securing the window back in place and shut the door to follow Dean. The door bounced back at her and Dean chuckled, “gonna have to put a little more oomph in it.” Morgan opened the heavy door again and slammed it hard, hearing a satisfying click of the latch, she gave Dean a triumphant look as he continued snickering at her while holding the restaurant door open.  
  
The burger joint was small and outdated, but the smell that overwhelmed Morgan’s upturned nose was invitingly delicious. Teenagers were bustling behind the counter, steam rising from a few machines in the kitchen, yelling directions at each other and pushing bags of food out a drive-thru window. She followed Dean to the counter and scanned the menu board above the cashier stations.  
  
“Know whatcha want?” he asked pulling out his leather wallet.  
  
“Burger’s fine,” she shrugged at him.  
  
“Fries?” she nodded at him, “We still have pop at home. Wanna shake for the road?”  
  
She gave him an unsure look, “never had one.”  
  
“Oh, we’re changin’ that,” he said with a slightly shocked expression, “Chocolate or- nevermind,” shaking his head he stepped up to the counter and began ordering to the dreamy eyed cashier.  
  
“Hey, Brian, there’s yer girlfriend,” a jeering voice travelled from the back of the dining room, followed by a quick, “shut up, Franky.” The second voice made Morgan turn and there again was the boy with the baseball cap and his friends, sitting at a chipped, red plastic table in the corner. He raised his eyebrows at her and feeling another flush creeping to her cheeks, Morgan turned back towards the counter. Dean, finishing their order, hadn’t noticed the exchange.  
  
“Hey,” the same voice from earlier was right behind her now and both Morgan and Dean turned to the boy, he addressed Dean’s glare first, “I’m sorry about before, sir, you have a- a really sweet ’67 out there,” he gestured to the Impala and Morgan was sure she saw a flicker of respect cross Dean’s face, but he continued staring at the young man in distain, “I’m really into the older Chevy’s.”  
  
Dean’s disinterest couldn’t have been clearer, but he offered the boy a curt nod. He took this as invitation enough to address Morgan next, “I’m Bryan,” he held out a hand and with a quick backwards glance to Dean, Morgan shook it and couldn’t help a tiny smile when he touched her, “Morgan,” she mumbled.  
  
“I like that name,” Bryan smiled, still holding her hand, but dropped it abruptly as a low growl issued from Dean, “I uh- it’s good to meet you Morgan. Are you new around here?” she merely nodded, knowing Dean wanted the conversation to end, “well, maybe I could show you around sometime?” seeing Dean open his mouth, Bryan quickly finished with, “If it’s ok with your brother.”  
  
Morgan didn’t want to look at Dean, knowing he must be seething and fighting the urge to throw the young man through one of the poster covered windows, but curiosity turned her head. She was surprised to find an amused expression covering Dean’s face and for one terribly wonderful moment she thought he might agree.  
  
“You’ve got guts, kid,” Dean chuckled, handing the cashier a couple twenty dollar bills after her second attempt to gain his attention back.  
  
“Thanks,” Bryan smiled and looked to Morgan, “So are you busy Saturday night?”  
  
Dean let out a short loud laugh, “Oh, that’s not happening,” seeing Bryan’s disgruntled face he continued with far less amusement in his own, “Kid, I know your type, I was your type, I’m not gonna tell you to walk away again.”  
  
To Morgan’s astonishment, Bryan didn’t move, but set an equally challenging look at Dean and replied, “Respectfully, sir, you don’t know me,” and with another smile to Morgan he returned to his friends.  
  
Their drive out of town was quiet. As promised, the chocolate shake she was drinking tasted like euphoria, but even the cold ice cream couldn’t subdue the persistent warmth in the pit of her stomach. Morgan couldn’t get Bryan out of her mind and absently let a nose scrunching smile and small giggle escaped just as they hit the country road.  
  
“He wasn’t that cute,” Dean said dismissively, seeing the look he was all too familiar with, having encouraged it himself in countless girls.  
  
“I don’t know,” Morgan shrugged, giving him a sly smile, “he was pretty cute to me.”  
  
Her stomach sank as she felt Dean apply the brakes and pull the Impala to the side of the road. She thought they were just having some fun and was immediately terrified that somehow, she’d taken it too far. He was smiling when she looked over at him timidly, churning her concern into confusion.  
  
“C’mon, you’re drivin’,” and he got out of the Impala, ignoring the shock on her face.  
“I can’t!” She protested as he opened the passenger door, “I don’t know how!”  
  
“I’m gonna show you,” he smiled and gave her a little push towards the steering wheel.  
  
With a sigh, Morgan slid across the leather bench seat, grabbed the steering wheel and edged herself as far up as she could on the seat, stretching her slender legs with pointed feet, but still not even grazing the pedals with the toes of her boots. From the passenger seat, Dean let out a boisterous laugh that was immediately met with a frustrated scowl from his sister.  
  
“Sorry,” he breathed through subsiding laughs, “Here,” reaching under the seat he pulled a lever and scooted the whole bench several inches forward. His knees were uncomfortably crammed into the dashboard, but Morgan could feel the hard metal pedals resting securely under her feet, “Ok, see all these gauges?” she nodded nervously as he pointed at the collection of needles and numbers clumped in front of her, “this is the only one you need, your speedometer tells you how fast you’re going, ok, now your feet, feel that left pedal? That’s your brake, now feel the right one, don’t press it yet, got it? Ok that’s the accelerator. Now push the brake all the way to the floor and hold it, good, feel good? Can you see?” Morgan nodded as she peered over the giant black hood, afraid to look away from the road before she was even moving, “Good, now,” tapping the large lever jutting out from the right of the steering wheel, “pull this down till the red line is over the D,” following his instructions she noticing a little red line between the gauges move as she pulled the stalk down and felt the Impala shift from idle, “Good girl, now real easy press the accelerator, little more she’s kinda- WOAH!”  
  
Morgan had given what felt like just a little more gas and the Impala lurched forward on the side of the road before she slammed both feet on the brake, jerking them to a sudden halt. Dean had returned to near hysterics, a shaking hand holding the bags of take out firmly on the floor between his feet.  
  
“I’m sorry!” Morgan yelled.  
  
“It’s fine,” Dean breathed through bouts of laughter, “Try again, real easy.”  
  
Concentrating as hard as she ever had, Morgan pressed the accelerator slowly, feeling the push back and continuing to depress the pedal, she was shocked when the Impala started crunching down the gravel shoulder. After a few more feet, Dean gently guided the steering wheel with one hand towards the road.  
  
“Keep’er between the lines, little more gas, there ya go,” he was smiling at her, but Morgan’s gaze was locked just past the hood at the pavement moving beneath them, “keep your eyes up, look at the horizon, it’ll keep you going straight,” trying his advice, Morgan found it much easier to navigate the whole road as her view expanded beyond the immediate foot in front of the Impala, “nice job, little more gas, I wanna eat this burger before tomorrow,” he playfully tapped on the gauges in front of her, glancing at the speedometer, Morgan saw she was going a total of nineteen miles per hour and put a little more pressure on her right foot.  
  
She’d managed to get to nearly forty-five before the entrance of the cave came into sight and at Dean’s instructions came to a slow stop a few feet before the dark tunnel. Shaking with excitement, but happy to retake the passenger seat, Morgan slid across to let Dean in, who moved the seat into its normal far back position before settling behind the wheel. She listened intently as he lectured best driving practices all through the tunnel and back into the garage, hands still sweaty and shaking from the exhilaration of controlling the powerful automobile. Bryan had been completely pushed from her thoughts by the impromptu driving lesson.  
  
Through the hallway back to the library, Sam walk towards them from the other side with an open beer, having just exited the kitchen. Rowena still sat at the table, head held high, looking amusedly at Crowley who’d appeared back in the arm chair with a glass of scotch. Castiel looked extremely disgruntled watching them as he leaned against a bookcase and tried to get Sam’s attention, but conveniently Sam was taking a swig of his beer and walking quickly across the room.  
  
“Good, I’m starving,” he took the to-go bag from Morgan in his empty hand.  
  
“Imma grabba beer, Morgan, y’want anything?” Dean asked as they entered the large space.  
  
“Hold on,” she said secretively and quietly stood in front of him, he inclined his head looking at her quizzically.  
  
A few moments later, a cold beer bottle soared through the opening of the hallway to the kitchen and landed softly on the table across from Rowena. The cap popped off with a quick hiss and deposited itself in a nearby waste bin. Dean shook his head smiling and gave Morgan a soft knock on the shoulder with his beer. Rowena tried to look unimpressed as she glowered at Morgan.  
  
“Such extraordinary talent being put to use serving drinks,” she scoffed meanly, giving Morgan a sarcastic smile.  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Morgan returned her mockery with an insincere grin of her own, “did you want something?”  
  
“Everything good in town?” Sam asked with a tone of protocol and dug cardboard boxes from the paper bags.  
  
“Yea, ‘cept we can’t take her anywhere,” Dean joked, Sam whipped a furious look at Morgan before Dean patted him on the shoulder and laughed, “No, no she was fine, but I came outta the gas station and she’s got boys crawlin’-”  
  
“It was one boy!” Morgan corrected forcefully, “And he wasn’t crawling!”  
  
“No, he was leanin’, on my baby,” Dean apparently enjoyed the rise he’d gotten out of her.  
  
“Wha’d you do?” Sam was smiling now and slid a burger in front of both his siblings.  
  
“Just nicely asked him to leave,” Dean shrugged, but the very loud scoff from Morgan wasn’t missed by either of them.  
  
“Nicely?! You probably scared the crap outta him!” She protested to both of their proud and amused faces.  
  
Sam laughed out loud and nudged Dean with his elbow, “Oh, I wish I coulda seen that.”  
  
“Any chance,” Crowley leaned forward in the chair, looking at the three Winchesters, “we could return this conversation to the truly concerning bloke chasing her tail?”  
  
“Real buzz kill today, huh, Crowley?” Dean’s tone was flat, all three of them had ceased joking immediately and glared at the demon.  
  
“I just don’t appreciate wasting my time with nonsense,” he sipped the glass in his hand and nodded to Morgan, “You’re not actually surprised? She’s gorgeous,” and Morgan couldn’t help return the demon’s sly smile, feeling her cheeks flush again, “I understand we’re planning some lessons with the Book of the Damned as our main text, Mother and feathers here were just catching me up. So, when is the first day of school?”  
  
“We’ll need the book,” Castiel spoke to Rowena, “and the kodex.”  
  
“Yes, good luck with that dearie,” she sneered haughtily, “I’m willing to train the girl, but until needed, those precious books will be staying safely hidden.”  
  
“How can she practice without it?” Dean growled.  
  
“You think that spell is something she can practice?” Rowena sniggered at him, “We’ll have one chance at Lucifer and unless you can think of another angel you’d like to condemn to that hole so she can have a trial run,” glancing at Castiel briefly with a snide expression, “there is no opportunity to practice.”  
  
“So, what are you gonna teach me?” Morgan interjected bitterly.  
  
“Nothing,” Rowena said simply, eyeing Morgan neutrally, “Your Mother taught you the basics, I’ll merely be taking you to the next level in honing your craft, the complexities of magic you haven’t yet experienced, but undoubtedly understand,” Morgan nodded at the older witch, the respect she felt for her growing stronger, “Samuel, has found us these wonderful texts to start with,” she gestured to a stack of familiar books on the other table before peering intently back at Morgan, “and I heard you are in possession of your Mother’s spell books.”  
  
A chill sank through her seeing the eager expression on Rowena’s face and remembering how protective her Mother had always been over the magic she’d compiled in those books. She shot Sam a betrayed look before nodding affirmatively to Rowena, her stomach twisting.  
  
“Splendid,” the older witch crooned and waved her fingers towards the hallway, “Go and get them.”  
  
Morgan didn’t move.  
  
“Going to fly them in here like your brother’s beer?” Rowena snickered.  
  
“No,” Morgan said flatly, “I’m not sharing my Mother’s magic with you when you don’t trust me with yours.”  
  
Rowena looked momentarily surprised, but leveled the girl with an expression of mild admiration. Morgan felt Dean’s arm across her shoulders and looked up to see him smiling proudly at her, cheeks protruding from a mouthful of burger. Her stomach growled again, she glanced longingly at the now cold burger in front of her, but returned her firmly determined expression quickly to Rowena.  
  
“We all need to trust each other,” Castiel spoke and Crowley scoffed.  
  
“I think we crossed that line a few seasons ago,” the demon sipped his glass with a smirk, “no, I agree with the pretty one. Let’s keep our cards close until it’s time to join together and beat the house.”  
  
Morgan and Rowena both turned to him in surprise, one clearly annoyed, the other simply flabbergasted. His reference, having soared over Morgan’s head, did not help.  
“It has to work,” Castiel said matter-of-factly.  
  
“Just because it’s all we’ve got,” Crowley swirled the last sip of scotch in his glass, “doesn’t mean it’s going to work.”  
  
Crowley threw back the last bit of scotch. Silence engulfed the large room and no one looked at anyone else.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *I don't own Supernatural* 
> 
> The brothers get an interesting glimpse into their sister's past while trying to help her overcome the fear of the nightmares plaguing her, but maybe she should be fearful...

The angel, the demon and the older witch left together shortly after the conversation hit a near standstill, but plans were made for them to return in a day or two to start what Rowena considered “a dangerous acceleration of unpredictable power”. Morgan was not thrilled at the prospect, knowing how physically and mentally draining it was sure to be and unsure if it was even safe. Rowena had a point that magic, like everything, grew in its own time and attempting to hasten the process could have dire consequences. Mostly though, Morgan wished Rowena had expressed her concerns about this when Sam and Dean were out of ear shot. Of course, she knew they were now rethinking the entire plan with every concerned glance she caught from her brothers. She buried herself in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, avoiding the moment she knew they’d tell her she couldn’t be part of the team to defeat Lucifer.  
  
“Hey, still up?” Sam knocked on her open bedroom door, but didn’t enter until she’d looked up and put down the book, marking her page with finger, “Wow, you’re almost done?”  
  
Morgan glanced at her finger separating the first three-fourths of the book with the last few chapters, eager to return to Hagrid’s arrest and the mysterious voice in the walls, she was sure Sam carried bad news. He continued when she didn’t respond.  
  
“Dean’s never read them,” he sat on the end of her bed, Morgan suspiciously waited for the real reason he was there, “What do you think so far?”  
  
“Of the book?” Morgan questioned earnestly, expecting a transition from small talk, she wasn’t sure what he was asking her to evaluate.  
  
“Yeah,” he chuckled, “Wha’d’you think of the flying car?”  
  
“Boys are stupid,” she gave him an amused smile when he looked quizzically at her, “they got in all that trouble and they could’ve just waited for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley or sent Hedwig or something.”  
  
“Yea,” he smiled, “boys are stupid. Since you’re still up, I thought you might like to see the movie for the Sorcerer’s Stone.”  
  
“There’s a movie?” Morgan brightened immediately, apparently, Sam didn’t have an ulterior motive.  
  
“Yep, Dean’s settin’ it up in my room now,” evidently, they both knew this was something she was unlikely to refuse, “If you wanna take a break from readin’ for a little bit?”  
  
Morgan checked her page, she was only a page and half from the end of a chapter, “give me… forty seconds,” and scurried through the last few paragraphs before shutting the thick book and looking at Sam’s astounded expression.  
  
“Did you even understand that?” he scoffed.  
  
“Of course,” she replied slightly indignant at his affront.  
  
He shook his head in disbelief and admiration, “Wow,” she inclined her head at him with confusion and he continued, “It’s just incredible, I mean, I thought I read fast.”  
  
She blushed a little understanding his compliment and offered a weak smile, unsure how to respond and shrugged. Morgan had always read quickly, she hadn’t had a choice considering most of what had been set in front of her had been snatched away in an unreasonable amount of time and expected to be memorized. Survival instincts had developed her speed reading with pristine comprehension.  
  
Morgan followed Sam out of her room and Dean was approaching from the kitchen with a large bowl of popcorn in one hand, an open beer in his other and a can of pop tucked in his elbow.  
  
“Ran outta hands,” he said and sipped his beer, “Sammy’re gonna have to get your own.”  
  
“Morgan?” Sam gave her a sideways smile, “D’you mind?”  
  
She quickly returned his smile, then set her eyes straight ahead down the hall. The distinctive sound of the fridge closing was immediately followed by a frosty brown bottle zooming out of the kitchen, down the hall and slowing to a stop in Sam’s waiting hand. The cap popped off with a hiss and floated for a moment in midair before Sam grabbed it with his empty hand.  
  
“That’s never gonna get old,” he stared at the bottle cap in his hand with astonishment before lifting his drink at Morgan with a smile, “thanks.”  
  
“Alright,” Dean shook his head, “let’s start this movie, kids, I- SHIT!”  
  
Walking into Sam’s room, Dean slipped on a mess of papers that had fallen on the floor from Sam’s desk. In a second, his beer, the bowl of popcorn and soda can were out of his control, flying back with him to the ground. Popcorn scattered in the air, a stream of beer flowed upward from the rapidly falling bottle and Dean was dangerously close to smacking the back of his head on the hard tile.  
  
“DURATUS!”  
  
Morgan saw the look of complete shock on Sam’s face as Dean and everything he was carrying froze in midair. Holding her hands flat at Dean, Morgan looked confidently at Sam, the spell had just blurted itself out, but it was the right one.  
  
“Novis,” she waved her hands in a quick circle towards herself and watched as popcorn flew back into the bowl, beer back in the bottle, Dean made an involuntary move, reversing to his previous stance and everything was back in his hands how it had been seconds before.  
  
Shaking his head roughly, Dean looked angry and Morgan felt a jolt of fear. His face quickly relaxed into a relieved smile and Morgan felt an internal sigh release her concern.  
  
“That’s never gonna get old,” he laughed, “Thanks, that’d’ve sucked.”  
  
“No problem,” she smiled, still feeling the tingling in her finger tips.  
  
“So,” Sam sat on his bed and eyed Morgan curiously, “Why do you have to say the spell for some and not others?”  
  
“It’s about concentration,” Morgan recited the words her Mother had pounded into her, “If I have time to concentrate on something simple, like levitation, I can just think the words, but if I have to react fast like that it’s a better bet it’ll work correctly, plus I can’t help it when I panic,” she glanced down with a pang of shame in her chest, her Mother was resolutely disappointed in her inability to not yell incantations under pressure, “Long spells, though, like scrying or really anything involving ingredients to work requires speaking.”  
  
Sam stared at Morgan, clearly impressed, Dean had gently set the popcorn and drinks on Sam’s desk and glowered at his brother lazing on his bed.  
  
“I got it, Sammy,” Dean shuffled the papers on the floor together and tossed them carelessly on the desk, “Wouldn’t wanna over exert yourself.”  
  
“Hey, thanks,” Sam returned his glare with a delighted smirk and waved Morgan onto his bed, patting the mattress next to him.  
  
Sitting between her brothers meant she was the holder of the popcorn bowl, which Morgan didn’t mind and was fairly certain she’d found her favorite new snack food. Less than five minutes into the movie, however, Morgan looked confusingly at Sam.  
  
“That’s not how Harry got to go to the zoo in the book,” she whispered into Sam’s inclined ear, hidden by long brown hair.  
  
“Yea,” Sam nodded with a smile and answered in the same hushed tone, “the books are always better, they change a few things but it’s pretty close.”  
  
Morgan nodded curtly, slightly disappointed and wondered why anyone would want to change such an incredible book at all. Though when Hagrid busted the door of the shack she couldn’t help but giggle with happiness at seeing exactly the character she’d created in her mind. Even Dean was clearly enjoying the movie, though he seemed to be watching Morgan’s reactions more than the TV. Morgan thought Hogwarts was the most incredible place she’d ever seen, even if it wasn’t real.  
  
The movie ended and Dean was quietly snoring, his head supported by the corner of the wall, empty bottle slipping from his grip. Sam chuckled and Morgan couldn’t stop him from smacking Dean in the face with a pillow.  
  
“Go to your own room!” he yelled as Dean made a loud snorting sound and shook his head roughly, maintaining his grip on the nearly empty beer.  
  
“Bitch,” Dean mumbled, throwing the pillow hard back at Sam.  
  
“G’night, Jerk,” Sam laughed.  
  
“Night,” Dean nodded sleepily and extended a hand to help Morgan hop off Sam’s bed, “Come on, kid, bed time. I’m surprised you made it through, you didn’t get a lotta sleep last night.”  
  
“Night, Sam,” she returned the quick squeeze he gave her, but hesitated glancing at his bookshelf, “Can I- uh, can I grab the next book? I’m almost done with Chamber of Secrets.”  
  
“You’re flyin’ through these,” he reached for the third Harry Potter book on the shelf, “just remember to put it down and sleep, alright?”  
  
Morgan made a noncommittal gesture with her shoulders and tried to take the book from Sam, but he didn’t let go. She felt his eyes on her with that too familiar concerned puppy dog expression, but kept her gaze on the cover picture of Harry and Hermione riding a horse-bird creature.  
  
“Morgan?” Sam waited for her to tear her eyes away from the book and look up at him through long eyelashes, “Are you worried about that dream?”  
  
Another noncommittal gesture, but the immediate shift of her eyes from Sam to her feet was response enough.  
  
“What dream?” Dean asked, looking from his brother to his sister and back.  
  
“She’s had this nightmare, what, twice now?” Sam watched Morgan nod, eyes still on the floor.  
  
“What nightmare?” Dean looked accusingly at Morgan, which did nothing to help her anxiety.  
  
“It’s nothing,” she shook her head and tried to look at both of them with innocent neutrality.  
  
“Is this the same nightmare I woke you up from the other night?” Dean asked, obviously more aware of his tone as his voice had softened.  
  
“Me too,” Sam raised his eyebrows at Morgan, “last night you were yellin’ in your sleep.”  
  
Morgan’s ears were burning red, “I’m fine,” she mumbled unconvincingly not looking at either of them. She was definitely tired, but adamantly did not want to return to the empty bunker running for her life from a winged devil.  
  
“Yea,” Dean scoffed, “you’re gonna use eight hundred pages of Harry Potter to keep yourself awake, but you’re fine.”  
  
She couldn’t help throwing an indignant look at him, her defenses gathering, “So what?”  
  
He narrowed his eyes at her warningly, Sam noticed the tension grow and stuck a hand between them.  
  
“Morgan,” he said softly, “we’re just worried-”  
  
“Well don’t be,” she snapped at him, Sam immediately looked shocked and hurt, Dean was losing patience.  
  
“Keep goin’, Brat,” he said firmly, “see where you end up.”  
  
“Yea, where’s that?” Morgan scoffed at Dean, much more confidently than she felt.  
  
Sam stopped him from advancing more than half a step at her, but scowled at her defiant look, “Cut it out, now,” his voice was uncharacteristically stern, but soften instantly “We’re just worried, Morgan. Where’s the anger comin’ from?”  
  
Morgan felt the heat grow on her cheeks and ears, her stomach churning with embarrassment. She hated this attention from them and wished they would stop being so concerned. For sixteen years, she’d managed to keep herself alive with very little help. Her Mother had never worried about her feelings, in fact, Morgan was sure had she ever admitted to being scared over a nightmare her Mother would have showed her what she should truly fear.  
  
“I’m fine,” she repeated at the ground, her voice cracked, helping extenuate the lie under her words, “I just don’t wanna sleep ok?”  
  
“No, it’s not ok,” Dean growled, Sam’s hand still across his chest.  
  
“Morgan,” Sam waited until she looked up at him, “we’d just like to help. You have to sleep.”  
  
She bit back the ‘do not’ retort, knowing full well how childish it would be, breathed deeply and tried to sound calm, “How can you help? It’s in my dream.”  
  
“The problem is you can’t find us, right?” Sam asked, remembering what she’d told him after a few hours of unrestful sleep. Morgan just nodded at him, flicking her eyes up occasionally, but finding more comfort in the tile floor, “So what if you could?”  
  
“African-dream-root?” Dean asked Sam and Morgan inclined her head in dramatic confusion.  
  
“Why not?” Sam shrugged, “If it’ll help.”  
  
Dean gave a thoughtful nod of his head, seemingly to himself, “Could be fun.”  
  
“There’s some in the first aid kit,” Sam pulled the tackle box he’d brought to Morgan’s room the first night from the floor next to his desk and rummaged through a few bottles of the unknown herbs. He extracted a glass jar with a few dried brown pods filling about half of it, “Be right back.”  
  
Sam left Dean and Morgan alone as he hurried down the hall. The burning questions about the mysterious magical herb took a backseat to fresh embarrassment at yet another outburst. It didn’t seem like herself to lash out the way she had been at them, although she’d always been able to hold her tongue when she knew the physical ramifications that accompanied disrespect of any kind.  
  
“Dean,” she said timidly, “I’m sorry for being…” the last word trailed away as she couldn’t find an appropriate term to follow.  
  
“A brat,” Dean said simply, crossing his arms in his characteristically daunting stance.  
  
Though it had been a statement, Morgan nodded, eyes flickering up less occasionally now from their permanent fixture on the grout crossings of the tiles between her feet.  
“Morgan, look at me,” Dean’s tone was calm, but sternly demanding and she jerked her head up, locking eyes with him, “Don’t tell me you’re gonna do better and continue with the same crap, you got a problem you talk to us, the random angry tantrums have to stop. Are we clear?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” and she offered him a very small smile that softened his expression immediately.  
  
Dean put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side tightly, planting a quick kiss on her hairline, “Kid, you remind me too much of the last bratty teen I had to straighten out,” he smiled at her confused expression, but Sam approaching from down the hall made her understand what he’d meant.  
  
It was hard to imagine Sam being smaller than Dean, but Morgan knew that obviously for a good majority of their lives that had been the case. She couldn’t help thinking of a petulant Sam being met with the same crossed armed, stern expression she’d become used to from Dean, and smiled knowingly at her oldest brother.  
  
“You guys good now?” Sam asked, each hand carrying a glass of grimy liquid, the smell of which was making Morgan nauseous.  
  
“Yea,” Dean nodded and smiled at Morgan, “Just tellin’ her how much she reminds me of you.”  
  
Morgan caught Sam’s eyeroll but he didn’t respond, Dean was gathering blankets from his room and missed the gesture.  
  
Morgan followed Sam’s small hand wave into her own room, he sat both glasses of brown filth on her dresser as Dean settled on a spot of floor next to Morgan’s bed.  
  
“You really don’t have-”  
  
“Morgan,” Dean interrupted but his expression was understanding, “We’re doin’ this and we have to be close to you for it to work. We’ve slept on much worse, trust me.”  
  
“That’s an understatement,” Sam scoffed, tossing his own bedding on the other side of Dean’s.  
  
“Can I ask,” Morgan said tentatively and waited for both to look at her as they adjusted their blankets, “What are you doing?”  
  
They looked at each other and shared a small chuckle before Dean responded, “African dream root, when mixed in this delicious drink,” he sneered at the glass Sam was handing him, “lets us into other people’s dreams, with conditions of course, but once we’re all asleep tonight, Sam and I will be there with you.”  
  
Morgan had heard of this once before, but her Mother had spells that worked similarly, typically to control the dreams of others not to spy on them. Clearly her Mother would not have had a use for this type of magic and therefore hadn’t focused on informing Morgan beyond the fact that it exists. She nodded happily at Dean and a warm bubble of relief swelled in her chest. Suddenly the exhaustion she’d been fighting since she’d woken from a few measly hours the night before rushed over her and she felt a shiver down her legs.  
  
Her glazing eyes and stifled yawn did not go unnoticed by Dean, who threw her blankets back and pointed firmly at the bed, “Come on, git’in.”  
  
Morgan didn’t hesitate and climbed under the covers immediately. Dean tucked her blanket over her shoulder and brushed her hair out of her face before placing one more gentle kiss on her forehead.  
  
“I can’t fix everything, little girl,” he said quietly, almost sadly, “but what I can, I will. Now sleep, we’ll see you in a minute.”  
  
Sam leaned over and gave her a hug, adding his own light peck on her hairline. They clinked their glasses together and Morgan shut her eyes tightly, she did not want to watch them chug that disgusting liquid. The groan and cough that immediately followed told her they’d finished and with her eyes still closed she noticed the lights were turned off.  
  
“Good night, Morgan,” Sam whispered, “Good night, Jerk.”  
  
“Good night, Bitch,” Dean retorted, “Good night, Brat.”  
  
Morgan smiled weakly, eyes unable to open, but she mumbled, “Good night, thank you both,” and a calloused hand gave her arm a quick squeeze through the blanket before disappearing back to the floor.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
It wasn’t the bunker Morgan found herself in, but a dank room with a small, moldy window barely letting in any of the pale light from outside. She knew this room far too well, a tiny basement cluttered in empty crates and years of forgotten items. Beneath the grimy window was a tattered blanket and a dirty sleeping bag, an indent still visible in the shape of a small child. Feet pounding overhead grew louder towards the top of the stairs and Morgan felt a cold chill soak her insides.  
  
“You better do it right this time!” a shrill voice called scathingly as the door flew open above and a stream of light ran down the stairs, “You know you won’t leave this hole until you do, worthless little pig nosed bitch.”  
  
Morgan’s knees knocked together her legs shook so badly watching her Mother descend the decrepit steps like a queen on a grand staircase. She glared bitterly at her from a few feet above, intimidating and hateful, with a hint of enjoyment in her eyes seeing Morgan quake and back against the concrete wall. Morgan couldn’t breathe, afraid any sound or movement would be met with distain and there was now a little more than an arm’s length between them. Her stomach churned with fear, threatening to show itself as a nauseous mess down her front.  
  
“Do it,” her Mother demanded, stopping on the bottom step, looking down at Morgan over her sharp nose with narrow eyes.  
  
The nausea hit the back of her throat, pushing to get out. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do, which lesson this had been that she’d failed so repeatedly her Mother had locked her away. Morgan braced herself for the blow as she screwed up her courage to ask what task she was expected to perform, but as she opened her mouth a crash above them made both witches’ heads jerk towards the cobweb covered rafters.  
  
“MORGAN?!” A loud, deep, growling voice echoed down the stairs.  
  
“Dean!” The name Morgan yelled fell out of her mouth without thought, but she immediately felt warmth rise from her toes while recent memories ran in her mind. That was her brother, she had brothers and they were coming to save her. Morgan’s fear was falling away and the nausea was gone, this was just a dream. Her Mother had backed into the basement and took a defensive stance at the bottom of the stairs, ready to attack as the pounding boots got closer to the door. Morgan felt deep hatred and anger fill her entirely.  
  
“IMPETUM!”  
  
Her Mother had opened her mouth to send an attack spell at the door above, but the fierce strength and pounding dread stirred in Morgan and she was unable to contain her emotions. A blast of purple light struck her Mother on the side and she launched across the room, smacking hard into a cement wall and crumpling to the floor in an unconscious heap.  
  
“Morgan!” Dean jumped the last half of the stairs and grabbed his sister into a tight hug, keeping himself between her and the pile of witch on the floor, “You ok?”  
  
Morgan nodded, staring up at Dean she felt all the pain, fear and worry she’d had moments ago, alone with her Mother, simply disappear. She buried her head in his chest and squeezed tight around his middle. A huge hand rubbed her back and she looked over at Sam smiling down at her.  
  
“What is this place?” Dean asked shifting his gaze around but not letting Morgan out of the hug.  
  
“Our house in Maywood,” Morgan sniffed, “We lived here until I was five.”  
  
“Morgan?” Sam was staring at the small pile of dirty blankets under the window, his voice low and sullen, “You didn’t live down here?”  
  
“Sometimes,” she shrugged, releasing Dean and he joined Sam in inspecting the tiny nest, Morgan quietly clarified, “Only when I was bad.”  
  
“You’ll be lucky to live down here,” a shrill whisper grew louder, sending shivers down Morgan’s spine and the three of them whipped around to see her Mother staggering a little to stand, her face contorted in uncontrolled rage, “if I don’t kill you first!”  
  
Before Morgan could react, she had been pushed quickly behind both brothers, peering between the gap in their torsos at her Mother’s blazing eyes.  
  
“You’re not gonna do a damn thing, lady,” Dean growled and chuckled darkly, “You’re already dead and this girl, she’s better now than she’s ever been.”  
  
“She’s rotten!” Her Mother screamed, eyes widen with confusion and fear but still raging with anger, “Worthless!”  
  
“Well, she got the drop on you,” Dean smirked, “Somethin’s rotten in here but it’s definitely not her, bitch.”  
  
Morgan held the tail of Dean’s flannel in her fist and gripped tighter on his last word, convinced he was about to blasted off his feet and somehow holding his shirt would keep him on the floor. But no hit came and Dean stayed steady, shoulder to near shoulder with Sam, silently waiting for the witch to make a move.  
  
“That is my daughter!” she spit nastily at them, “I will do what I like and you will leave my house!”  
  
“Happily,” Dean smirked, “but we’re taking our sister with us.”  
  
A look of understanding dawned on her pointed face and she almost smiled, “Winchesters.”  
  
“You should’ve told our Dad about her,” Sam suddenly barked at her, clearly trying to keep his voice calm and Morgan noticed his fists shaking at his sides.  
  
Her Mother burst into an eerily cackling laugh before setting her eyes on Sam, “John was a necessary evil, a gorilla of a man, but certainly one of the smartest apes I met in my long life, his looks didn’t hurt. Your father served his purpose for me and I’m sure got what he wanted from our short encounter, I didn’t owe him anything.”  
  
“What about her?!” Dean growled and pushed Morgan back behind them as he felt her move a little around him.  
  
The cackling laugh reverberated again off the concrete walls, “What about her? She was born to be powerful, she was born to show those doubters from the Grand Coven how much more I know than them, she was born to serve as the ultimate expression of my success as a witch! She is-”  
  
“A LITTLE GIRL!” Dean yelled and advanced on Morgan’s Mother so quickly Sam had to grab onto Morgan as she got pulled along by her hold on Dean’s shirt tail, “A LITTLE GIRL WITH A FAMILY WHO WOULD’VE WANTED TO HAVE HER WITH US! SHE WASN’T YOUR PAWN! SHE WASN’T HERE FOR YOU TO USE, YOU WERE SUPPOSE TO CARE ABOUT HER! YOU KEPT HER FROM PEOPLE WHO LOVE HER!”  
  
“LOVE!” Her Mother screamed, madness etched across her sharp features, she sneered at him, breathing heavily, “Love doesn’t build power! It destroys it! Your father would have ruined her, of course I kept her from the weakness you call family! Your father wasted his life chasing ONE demon because it killed your mother!” She laughed again manically and glared at Dean, “He almost found out once, he learned there was a child with me and of course he wasn’t stupid, I’ll give him that. He confronted me, at the doorstep of this house, right above her precious little head,” she pointed out the window at the small corner of stoop visible through the dirty glass, “but you know what I did?” she was enjoying herself now, cackling with every breath, “I told him about demon signs that had been cropping up and what I knew about reading them, we sat right above her for nearly an hour as I showed him how to interpret cattle deaths, electrical storms, oh you know,” she laughed, wiggling a finger at Dean who was blocking her view of Sam and Morgan, “he was so obsessed with killing that yellow eyed demon, he ran out of here when I told him where the signs were pointing to the demon attacking next, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was in Palo Alto by nightfall. I never saw him again.”  
  
Morgan was thankful Sam was holding her around the middle because her legs gave out and he was keeping her from collapsing on the hard floor. John had found out about her, he was right there and then he left! She tried to think of the few pairs of boots she remembered watching leave the stoop from her grimy little window, one of them had been John Winchester. He’d been right there, but he left to chase the demon.  
  
“Bet you hightailed it outta here after that too,” Dean accused, “Had to make sure he wouldn’t come back.”  
  
“John was an exceptional hunter,” her Mother said haughtily, “he would’ve found me if he’d tried.”  
  
“He died,” Dean ground out through a snarl.  
  
“I heard,” she said disinterested.  
  
“Why him?” Dean asked. Morgan and Sam snapped their heads in unison to stare at his back, shoulders tense as he spoke, “He was just a some-what good looking hunter who wasn’t a complete idiot. Why’d you choose him?”  
  
She looked surprised by the question and took a step back into the wall, Dean took a small step forward, asserting his usual amount of domineering control with a simple body movement. Sam held Morgan tighter even though she’d regained the strength in her legs, she dug her nails into the fabric of his jacket sleeve waiting for the answer.  
  
“He was there,” her Mother scoffed unconvincingly, “convenience.”  
  
“No,” Dean shook his head and took another small step forward, leaving less than a foot between himself and the witch, “no, I don’t think so. See, I think you knew somethin’ about our Dad. So, what was it?”  
  
She sneered at him with a nasty smile, “Stupid, boy,” finding a small amount of confidence she stepped away from the wall and closed the gap between herself and the towering man, “I knew his name! Winchester, an ancient legacy and a founder of the Men of Letters, the group of narrow-minded monkeys that destroyed my Grand Coven! I was destined to lead and would’ve had warlocks flocking to be the final ingredient in my greatest creation, but then there was nothing left to lead. None of them ever understood my obsessive need for knowledge, but I had memorized everything I could find about that awful group of men and when a hunter named John Winchester crossed my path I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. A simple ancestral identification spell proved he had the blood of a legacy, the blood that now runs in a witch,” she laughed again, “I chose him from my hatred, I chose him for revenge.”  
  
Morgan felt a cold understanding and she stood a little straighter. Pulling unexpectedly out of Sam’s hold, she quickly scooted around him avoiding his grasping hands trying to keep her back, but she was next to Dean and glaring at her Mother. Dean’s angry and shocked look was accompanied by an arm thrown across her chest to keep her back, but Morgan held it tight, mostly so he couldn’t shake her off, but partly for the courage she needed.  
  
“Is that why you hated me so much?” Morgan forced the words out, she wasn’t crying and she didn’t feel the urge to, she already knew the answer.  
  
“They killed people I cared about,” her Mother said simply, “The Men of Letters needed to be punished, I thought that Knight had wiped them out in fifty-eight, but when John came by I realized I could have my own, very personal revenge with their descendants. Yes, of course that’s why I hated you!” she sneered, Dean’s hand tightened around Morgan’s side, “I wanted an all-powerful prince to train into leading the largest coven of magic in the world, but I was forced to choose when time came near and was left to drag a half ape brat from one squalor to the next in this filthy country!”  
  
“Thank you,” Morgan said firmly once the room was quiet, her Mother’s eyes flared with new rage, “I hated you, I will always hate you, but the things you did to help yourself sometimes helped me too. So, thank you.”  
  
Her Mother looked like she would explode and suddenly a white haze appeared around her and began to disintegrate until Morgan was clutching Dean’s arm and they were both staring at a concrete wall.  
  
Suddenly, Morgan found herself beneath the crushing limbs of Sam and Dean, “Guys,” she tried to call out but was firmly pressed against Dean’s chest. She breathed in flannel and gunpowder and just pounded on him quickly until he let go and she gasped.  
  
“Sorry, sweetie,” he chuckled and ran a hand over her disheveled hair.  
  
“Morgan,” Sam spoke low and flickered his eyes between her and his feet, “you need to know he left because I was in Palo Alto then.”  
  
She inclined her head a little at him, but Sam did not continue, he didn’t seem to know how.  
  
Dean put his arm around Morgan and smiled down at her, “I’m really happy you’re with us, Morgan, it should’ve been earlier, maybe it even coulda been, but we’ve got you now and you’re stuck with us. Is that ok with you?”  
  
Finally, Morgan felt tears prick her eyes and that unwelcome tightening in her throat as she nodded at Dean and then Sam. She saw the tears on Sam’s cheeks as he stood there staring down at her.  
  
“Sam?” Morgan stepped towards him.  
  
“I’m sorry, Morgan,” he wiped his cheeks and composed himself before smiling at her, “I just wish-”  
  
“Please don’t,” Morgan stopped him with a hand on his chest, “Can we just be happy we have each other now?”  
  
He smiled broadly and shook his head a little, “sounds good kid,” and he lifted her into a strong hug.  
  
“This wasn’t the dream you were worried about was it?” Dean asked when Morgan’s feet touched back down.  
  
“No,” she shook her head and for a moment feared he’d be upset that they wasted their time with the African dream root.  
  
“Probably more productive anyway,” Dean shrugged gazing around the basement, his eyes lingered longer on the heap of blankets and he shook his head angrily, “Can we get outta here?”  
  
Morgan bound up the stairs without further prompting, expecting to emerge in the old kitchen of that tiny house by the river, even Dean and Sam’s calls didn’t register as she escaped the first prison of her childhood. The garage was bright, classic cars and motorcycles gleaming in the light, Morgan turned to go back down the stairs to Sam and Dean but smacked into a stone wall that never held a door. Her heart started pounding in her ears, but a far more ominous sound soon pierced her head with stabbing pain. From nowhere, on the other side of the garage a large scaled beast beat leathery wings against its body, screeching horribly and tearing at the ground with sharp claws. Her legs had carried her out of the garage and down the familiar corridor before she’d even realized she was moving, but the scrapping claws were close behind.  
  
“DEAN! SAM!” she screamed, rounding the hall to the library. She was alone.  
  
It’s just a dream, it’s not him, it’s just a dream.  
  
“DEEEAAAN!” Morgan made it to the library, but wasn’t sure why she was running there and the library was as empty as the rest of the bunker. Hot pain seared her back and Morgan screamed feeling the fiery breath burn her skin, a claw began wrapping itself around her middle, “NO! RELINQUO!”  
  
She wrenched herself free and although fear was screaming at her to run, she turned to see what effect she’d had on the monster. It wasn’t a monster lying on the ground hurt, it was Dean.  
  
“No, Dean!” She cried and threw herself next to the moaning man on the ground, “I’m so sorry! I thought-”  
  
“It’s ok, sweetheart,” he grinned at her and pushed himself to his feet, “I’m just fine now, but I’d be a lot better if we could be together.”  
  
Morgan inclined her head and stared at Dean confused, “we are,” she didn’t like the intense look he was giving her and took a tentative step back.  
  
“We could be so much closer, sweetheart,” he stepped towards her, never wavering his eyes from hers, “just let me find you.”  
  
Her stomach sank as the eyes in her brother’s face become unrecognizable and briefly seemed to flash red, but strong fingers wrapped around her upper arm and she was launched backwards into Sam’s chest, his arms quickly folding around her protectively. Dean was already decking the other Dean in the face and screaming vulgarities Morgan had never heard. For a moment, she wasn’t sure which Dean she was rooting for and hoped Sam did, one of them was definitely not doing well in the fight. A hard punch directly to one Dean’s gut sent him flying back and returned with maniacal laughter, Morgan knew who her brother was now and felt a bubble of pride swell watching him tear the devil a new one. Although, now that Dean’s double had staggered back to his feet it was clear catching him off guard wouldn’t happen again and with a flick of his hand the real Dean flew past Morgan and Sam down the dark hallway and out of sight.  
  
“DEAN!” Morgan screamed and Sam tightened his hold when he felt her try to run after their older brother.  
  
“Look who’s here,” the fake Dean’s eyes definitely flashed red briefly when his eyes landed on the two of them, “It’s been a while Sammy, I missed you.”  
  
“Go to hell,” Sam growled, his grip around Morgan so tight she could barely breath, although the devil standing before her also wasn’t helping.  
  
He threw back his head and laughed darkly. For all his physical perfection in mirroring Dean, Morgan no longer recognized this monster as her brother.  
  
“Well thanks to you and Cas I’m on extended leave from that delightful place,” he shifted his gaze from Sam’s eyes to Morgan’s and smiled sickeningly, “I don’t know how you found this little atom bomb, but thank you for leading me to her, you’re always so good to me Sam. Truthfully, I don’t know why she’s got her mind on Dean, you’re so much more thoughtful and caring, although I guess the ladies do like the overdone James Dean impersonation. He is a little better looking I guess.”  
  
Fake Dean took a step forward and Sam quickly moved Morgan behind him, “Stay away from her,” Sam barked angrily, “she has nothing to do with this.”  
  
“Oh, Sammy,” the red eyes flashed again and the devil had contorted Dean’s face into an awful sneer, “that’s just not true. You think I can’t feel the power radiating from her?” he licked his lips like he’d just tasted something delicious, “That’s power even my Father next expected to grace this planet! Power only few can contain, the kind of power that belongs to me!”  
  
“You’re not getting her!” Sam yelled, “She will never agree to let you in!”  
  
Another cackle of mad laughter escaped from Dean’s evil double, “You think I want her as a vessel?” he cackled again, goosebumps raised on Morgan’s skin and she held tight to Sam’s shirt tail, “A child? A girl?! When I have her power, I can make any vessel as perfect of a fit as you should’ve been, Sam. You and your brother can only protect her for so long,” he scoffed at Morgan, “she sees Dean as some sort knight in shiny armor, your power makes it harder to read you, sweetheart, but you’re carrying a big torch for this loser,” he pointed at himself, “I think he’s a little old for you, don’t you? But maybe you have daddy issues too,” he chuckled darkly, “Where’d your daddy run off to?”  
  
Morgan wanted to wake up more than anything. She wanted Dean to shake her awake, offering bacon and coffee. The devil’s awful laughter was the only sound she could hear and she peered around Sam to see him flash his red eyes directly into hers. Come to me, a raspy voice echoed eerily and Morgan looked at Sam who clearly hadn’t heard anything as he was still glaring at Dean’s double, I know where you are.  
  
“NO!” Morgan screamed, Sam jumped and the evil Dean clone smirked, “GO AWAY! FINIS VIGILATE!”  
  
The devil’s ominous cackle echoed as the bunker dissolved into darkness around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was intense... hope you're intrigued! If you're binge reading this first I love you for starting at the beginning and understand if you don't want to stop to write a review, but would LOVE if you could tap that kudos button ;-)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *I don't own Supernatural*
> 
> Now that Lucifer knows who she's with how safe is Morgan, even with her brothers protecting her? Rightfully afraid and overwhelmed, Morgan's emotions start getting the better of her...

Morgan gasped and her eyes flew open, barely adjusted in the light, but she distinctly saw relief wash over Dean’s face.  
  
“Morgan?” a quiet, but frantic croak came from the floor.  
  
Dean was quickly at his side as Sam sat up, rubbing his head and blinking in the bright room.  
  
“I’m ok, Sam,” Morgan sat up and spoke shakily.  
  
“What happened?” Dean demanded, whipping his head from Sam to Morgan and back.  
  
“He doesn’t want her as a vessel,” Sam still spoke low.  
  
“What?” Dean looked confused and continued to look between Morgan and Sam.  
  
“I think he has a spell or something,” Sam’s eyes were locked on Dean, “he said he can use her power to make any vessel strong enough to hold him.”  
  
“What?” Dean repeated in disbelief.  
  
“Dean,” Sam moved to push himself off the floor, “he knows she’s with us, but he doesn’t know she’s our sister.”  
  
“He still can’t get in here,” Dean reassured his brother as well as himself.  
  
“He’s gonna kill me,” Morgan said to herself, effectively gaining both their attentions.  
  
“That is not happening,” Dean responded definitively.  
  
“He’s not gonna stop-,” she barely heard Dean as the worrying feelings bombarded her intrusively.  
  
“We’ll stop him,” Dean growled a little, interrupting Morgan’s audible train of defeated thoughts, “I need you to believe that,” Morgan felt Dean’s eyes on her but kept her own focused on the threads of her blanket she was picking at mindlessly, “Morgan,” Dean sat on the edge of her bed and gently took both her fidgeting hands in his right, waiting for her to meet his eyes before he continued, “you’re safe, we’re not gonna let anything hurt you. I promise. Please believe me.”  
  
Sam stood behind Dean and patted Morgan’s leg through the blankets, smiling down at her, “That was a hell of a move at the end there. What’d you do?”  
  
“I just wanted to wake up,” she shrugged, “That’s not what that spell is meant for, but it popped in my head.”  
  
“It worked,” Sam nodded proudly.  
  
A small, but genuine smile crept onto Morgan’s face.  
  
“You really are incredible,” Sam sat at the foot of her bed behind Dean, “besides the power you were born with, Morgan, you are really amazing. I can’t believe what you’ve been through and you managed to hold onto hope and goodness despite how awful your life was. You stayed true to what you know is inside you and that’s not something many people could do. You know where that comes from?”  
  
“Stupidity,” Morgan scoffed thinking of her Mother’s hatred for her kind nature.  
  
Sam shook his head, still smiling, “Dad.”  
  
Morgan felt her chest fill with warmth at the tiny word. She looked from one brother to the other and felt the bond between them growing stronger.  
  
“Morgan,” Dean spoke quietly, “Dad died not long after the demon attack in Palo Alto, he would’ve found you if he could, I know he would have.”  
  
Morgan nodded. She believed that, but she also knew if John hadn’t left that day, if he’d found her in the basement, if he’d tried to take her with him, her Mother would have killed him.  
  
“You’re a lot like him,” Dean continued and chuckled at Morgan’s surprised expression, “a stubborn, hot-head who has problems with authority and a huge heart, that will fight for the people you care about. Yea you remind me a lot of Dad, and Sammy,” he jerked his head back and Sam smirked with a look of admittance to this statement.  
  
“It’s kinda weird,” Sam began and they both looked at him as he shifted his eyes from his brother to his sister, “but you two do look a lot alike.”  
  
“Too bad I didn’t get hair like you,” Morgan giggled and Sam shook his head letting his long hair whip around like a spastic shampoo model, she laughed harder.  
  
“What time is it?” Dean asked when her laughter subsided.  
  
“Bacon,” Morgan said simply.  
  
Dean threw his head back and laughed loudly once, “Yep, its bacon time.”  
  
He left the room, Morgan threw off the covers and carefully stepped over Dean’s blanket still next to her bed on the floor. Sam was standing by the door, but didn’t make a move to leave.  
  
“He’s an idiot you know,” Sam said strangely and Morgan stared at him, “Lucifer, he might appreciate your power, but I know it’s gonna be everything about you he’s overlooking, everything he and your Mother saw as a weakness, that’ll be your greatest strength.”  
  
“You think so?” Morgan asked looking up at Sam with earnest eyes.  
  
“Know so,” he offered a small smile before gathering her into a hug and kissing the top of her head.  
  
She held onto him tight for a few long moments, relishing the feeling of his strong, protective arms wrapped around her.  
  
“Am I eatin’ bacon by myself?!” Dean’s voice carried down the hall and into her open bedroom door.  
  
Morgan and Sam raced each other into the kitchen, she overtook him in the last few feet and skidded through the doorway. She knew he let her win but giggled anyway as Sam trudged in pretending to be exhausted with the sprint down the hall and collapsed into the nearest chair.  
  
“Morgan, d’you mind makin’ some coffee?” Dean asked, his attention on the bacon beginning to sizzle in the pan.  
  
“Sure,” Morgan smiled and grabbed the empty pot to fill in the sink.  
  
“Sam,” Dean called over his shoulder, “I need you to get started on cataloging those drawers in the library today,” Morgan heard Sam groan, but Dean cut him off, “I don’t wanna hear it. You two said that’s where y’found that journal from OZ and we’da known about it if we hadn’t kept pushin’ this off. I want it done, today,” Sam didn’t answer, but Morgan caught a slight head nod as she watched the exchange out of the corner of her eye, Dean raised his voice a little, “Got it, Sammy?”  
  
“Yea, Dean, I got it,” Sam responded exasperated, but kept his tone calm.  
  
“Can I help?” Morgan pipped up, mostly to break the tension, but it didn’t sound like a bad way to spend the day and after last night’s adventure in her dream she knew it was unlikely she’d be leaving the bunker anytime soon.  
  
“Sure,” Sam’s eyebrows raised and he seemed to perk up a little, “it’ll be boring though.”  
  
Morgan shrugged, “What else do I have to do?”  
  
“Good point,” Sam nodded.  
  
“I gotta run to the parts store today,” Dean said, adding more bacon to the hot pan, “Impala shouldn’t take long once I’ve got the belt, but I gotta get it done.”  
  
Morgan didn’t bother asking if she could go with him, knowing the answer, plus she was actually really looking forward to digging through the library with Sam. She finished filling the water tank, stuck in a filter full of fresh grounds and hit the brew button, immediately followed by the soft hiss of steaming water.  
  
Breakfast was composed of simply bacon and coffee, even though Dean had offered to make eggs, Morgan and Sam were content with the mound of fried pork belly their older brother set in the middle of the table. Dean had just sat down with a mug of coffee when his pocket started blaring a guitar riff, he rolled his eyes and stood up to dig his phone out.  
  
“Yeah?” Dean answered after glancing at the screen and was quiet for a few moments, “Yeah, that makes sense- we had a little encounter last night- no, no, we’re fine- she’s fine, Cas- yeah, ok, see ya in a bit,” Dean pressed the screen, pushed the phone back in his pocket and grabbed another few slices of bacon, but didn’t sit back down.  
  
“Cas comin’ over?” Sam asked.  
  
“Onda bay,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon and swallowed hard before continuing, “They got somethin’,” he took a swig of coffee and made a face like he was about to scream, but forced a swallow and coughed, “Damn that’s hot! Ok, kids, I gotta run now then, I’ll be back soon,” he took another, less enthusiastic sip of coffee before setting it down and knocking his index finger on the table in front of Sam, “I’m serious, Sam, I wanna see some progress made when I get back.”  
  
“Yeah, ok,” Sam said bitterly and Morgan actually saw him hold back an eyeroll.  
  
Dean nodded curtly at Sam, tousled Morgan’s already messy hair and hurried down the hall. He was dressed and walking back past the kitchen in less than two minutes, Morgan and Sam were still at the table in their sweatpants picking at the last broken slices.  
  
When Dean’s heavy footsteps couldn’t be heard anymore, Sam shook his head hard and let out a frustrated growl that turned into a laugh. Morgan smiled curiously at him and inclined her head in question of his outburst.  
  
“He’s just such an overbearing jerk,” Sam sighed in response to Morgan’s unasked question, “and he’s never gonna stop riding my ass.”  
  
Morgan shrugged, Dean was a hard ass but she couldn’t accuse him of being unreasonable or cruel.  
  
“It’s like sometimes,” Sam continued, “he still thinks I’m a kid.”  
  
“He cares,” Morgan said quietly, feeling a twinge of anger at Sam for not appreciating Dean’s selfless, protecting nature.  
  
Sam noticed he hit a sore spot, “I didn’t mean- Morgan, I know he cares and believe me there’s no one who cares more about him than me,” he reached a hand across the table and grabbed one of hers, “I’m sorry, I thought I had a crappy childhood but it barely compares to what you’ve had to go through, I guess I get annoyed sometimes at things that I take for granted, hopefully you can help me see how great I’ve got it,” he smiled and she smiled back at him, no longer resentful, he released her hand and pointed at her, “I must say, you’re making things much easier for me,” he chuckled at the confused expression she gave him, “You’ve taken some, hell most, of his attention the last week, and trust me I appreciate it,” he smiled, “It’s always just been me and him, and before that it was me, him and Dad, so I’ve always been the low man on the totem pole in this family. Now, well now that’s your spot, and it’s not as bad as I’m making it sound,” he saw her slightly disheartened look at the mention of the Winchester totem pole, “Yes, you’re gonna get bossed around, a lot, but as I think you’ve realized, Dean’s orders are only to keep you safe. You’re probably the most protected person in the world right now and that has nothing to do with the bunker or that angel warding,” he looked a little proud at his next words, “your brothers are feared by every evil thing that walks this earth, that includes Lucifer, and anything that wants to get to you is gonna have to go through both of us.”  
  
Morgan smiled at Sam and a couple happy tears slipped down her cheek, “Thank you.”  
  
He shook his head, “You’re family, little girl, this would be happening if we had to keep you here kicking and screaming,” he sipped his coffee and jerked his thumb towards the door, “Go grab a shower and then we can get started on the library.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Morgan said automatically and noticed the surprised reaction Sam had before she put her coffee mug in the sink and left for the shower.  
  
Sam and Morgan had been in the library for about five minutes before Dean returned.  
  
“Lookin’ good kids,” Dean nodded, surveying the mess of random items spread over the tables.  
  
Morgan was sure she and Sam shared a silent sigh of relief, as they had quickly emptied all the drawers and had only just started sorting when the garage door banged. Morgan was eager to dig through the broken items, already seeing a few treasures that were clearly thrown somewhere for safe keeping and forgotten. Sam was still unenthused about the task, but like Morgan, seemed to find a few things that had already caught his eye. Dean only supervised for a minute before returning to the garage, promising he’d have the Impala completed in less than an hour.  
  
After a couple hours, Sam and Morgan had managed to purge most of the obvious junk into a giant black garbage bag and filled three front and back pages of the notebook with detailed descriptions of everything they’d so far deemed not useless. Sam seemed to think a lot of things were worth keeping and Morgan had to keep shaking out her cramping hand. Finally, Dean finished the Impala and returned to the library, covered in grease, his sweaty shirt sticking to his skin.  
  
“Wow,” he said nodding encouragingly, “Nice work, kids.”  
  
“Thanks,” Morgan smiled at his praise, Sam nodded that he’d heard.  
  
“I’m gonna grab a shower and was thinkin’ about a pizza for lunch,” Dean raised his eyebrows, silently asking their opinions on this idea.  
  
Morgan nodded, pizza was one of her favorites, having spent most of her life in and around Chicago, it was one of the more common foods she was able to find.  
  
“How ‘bout I go?” Sam asked, “I could use to get out for a minute.”  
  
Dean looked at him for a minute the same way he looked at Morgan when he was about to refuse but considered the request, “Yeah, ok, just be careful, he knows where the bunker is and we can’t be sure if he’s found a new vessel or not yet,” he put the Impala keys in Sam’s waiting hand, who wasted no time leaving the unfinished task in the library and heading towards the garage.  
  
“He knows where we are?” Morgan asked, feeling her stomach flip.  
  
“He’s been here,” Dean answered solemnly, “but he only got in then because we let him, we needed him and God to help with the Darkness.”  
  
“Wait,” Morgan laughed once in incredulity, “You know God too?!”  
  
“Oh, yea,” Dean nodded, “we’re besties.”  
  
Morgan stared at his amused face with confusion and disbelief, then considered after the stories she’d heard so far she really shouldn’t be surprised, finally shaking her head with a defeated sigh, “If he knows where I am, he’s just gonna circle this place.”  
  
“If he’s found a vessel,” Dean nodded, “and I told you, he can circle all he likes, he can’t get in here.”  
  
“So, I’m stuck in here forever?” Morgan asked bitterly.  
  
“For as long as it takes,” Dean shrugged, “Sorry, sweetie, but it is what it is.”  
  
Morgan gave him a sulking shrug back and returned her attention to what was left on the table. She understood and had expected nothing less, but Dean’s confirmation that she was essentially on house arrest still gave her an all too familiar pang of anger and resentment at having no control over herself. Silently she fought with herself, part of her trying to remind the rest that Dean was not locking her up the way her Mother used to, he wasn’t being cruel, he was protecting her. Still, instinctually, she felt trapped.  
  
She felt Dean approach and could tell he was searching for words, she knew he was trying to reach out, and was smiling weakly when she glanced up through long eyelashes with a disheartened pout.  
  
“Don’t look so excited,” he gently poked her side with a greasy finger, trying in vain to get her to smile, “It won’t be so bad and you won’t be alone.”  
  
Morgan nodded and offered him a halfhearted curl of her lips, hoping that would suffice.  
  
“What’dya want on your pizza?” Dean pulled his phone from his pocket and tried to wipe more grease from his hands on his jeans before swiping the screen a few times.  
  
“I don’t care,” Morgan shrugged.  
  
“Ok, anchovies, spinach and mushrooms good then?” Dean, trying to keep a straight face, couldn’t help bursting out laughing seeing the look of disgust Morgan gave him, but he got her to smile, “Pepperoni?”  
  
“Yes, please,” she scrunched her nose in a joking sneer.  
  
Dean called in their order and then left for the shower. Morgan was alone for the first time in days and for the moment, knowing her brother was just down the hall, she relished the privacy and silence. Her whole life she’d been unbearably lonely and in less than a week, she suddenly found herself enjoying the few moments like this, knowing they were always short lived before one or both her brothers returned to the scene. Maybe Sam was right, she would get sick of them. Smiling at the idea that she finally had a family that cared to be around her so much she was enjoying the occasional minutes of solitude, Morgan picked up John’s journal from a side table and returned to getting to know her father.  
  
July 23rd, 1996  
09:00 Arrived in Long Island, NY on a suspected haunting of a group home. Karen runs the place, she’s an old grunt buddy’s sister and he called me for a favor, plan to meet with her at 13:30 for walk through. The building has been a group home for the last five years and was vacant for almost thirty years after being originally built as an orphanage in 1816. Getting lunch and setting the boys up in a motel before I head over, I swear if they ask one more time to go to NYC I’m gonna throw them both in the trunk.  
14:45 Just finished walk through with Karen, definite spirit activity, EMF was going crazy and most residents admitted to feeling temperature drops and seeing lights flicker. The story Karen told me is Judith Smithfield, the woman who used to run the orphanage, was abusive to the children, sometimes resulting in their deaths by starvation or beating. Apparently, it’s not a rumor, it was fairly common knowledge in the area, but no one at the time was concerned about unwanted children dying gruesomely. Based on the occasional deaths by residents of the group home for the last five years, being covered in bruises and emaciated, I think its Judith’s ghost, maybe I’m being hopeful because there are some bones I enjoy burning.  
July 24th, 1996  
02:45 Returned from cemetery, those boys are fast diggers, we were in and out in less than three hours. Will revisit group home tomorrow for full inspection.  
08:30 Karen and I walked every inch of the building and grounds, no EMF indicators. Will be getting updates from Karen over the next few months to be sure, but confident we handled it.  
11:00 Boys had the room spotless when I got back and Dean even had lunch waiting, of course it’s too good to be true that they’d just like to do something nice for their old man- we’re on our way to NYC when they finish packing the car. I hate the damn Yankees.  
21:30 I have to admit, today was a lot of fun with those boys. Sam made sure we rode the subway, he was so intrigued with how they were built I swear he’d have stayed on there all day if Dean hadn’t begged to see Times Square. If I’m never around that many people again I’ll die happy. They had a great time though and admittedly I don’t let them have that very often, Dean especially deserved the break.  
July 25th, 1996  
06:00 Knew it was too good to be true, damn kid can’t keep himself out of trouble, I knew I shouldn’t have let them talk me into this. At 01:30 last night I got up and Dean was gone, took me all of a minute to figure out where he went, he’s been on such a Ramone’s kick lately. He decided to sneak out after Sam and I went to bed and climbed in through the bathroom window of CBGB’s, by the time I got there the kid was smashed. Never in his life has Dean talked me the way he did on the way back to the room. I let him sleep it off for a few hours, woke him up a few minutes ago to pack the car, kid definitely feels like hell. I don’t even know what to do with him and I’m still too angry right now to deal with this. God damn kid.  
  
“Find anything interesting?” Dean took the stairs two at a time in a fresh shirt and jeans, Morgan could smell the soap and his hair was still damp.  
  
She smiled curiously at him and he inclined his head giving her a look that asked what she was up to.  
  
“What?” he asked finally when she didn’t speak.  
  
“July twenty-fifth, nineteen-ninety-six,” Morgan continued giving him a mysterious smirk and watched as understanding washed over him, immediately followed by the first time she’d ever seen Dean blush.  
  
“Oh,” he said and took the journal from Morgan, scanning the entry from twenty years before, “Yeah, not one of my finest moments.”  
  
“What happened?” Morgan asked, it was hard for her to imagine Dean breaking rules and being insubordinate.  
  
“You read it,” he gestured to the journal in his hand, “I screwed up and Dad caught me, I’ll tell you I never did anything that foolish again.”  
  
“He beat you?” Morgan asked, she couldn’t think of any other response from a parent to what Dean had done back then.  
  
Dean looked sadly at her and shook his head, “No, Dad never beat us,” and with a good-natured smirk said, “he was way more creative than that.”  
  
Morgan wasn’t sure what he meant, without realizing it she began to think about all the things her Mother had struck her with. In rages it was whatever was convenient, but when teaching she’d been partial to a thin piece of cord and never concerned herself with aiming. There were scars on her arms and legs that would always remind her of those painful attacks. She absently rubbed her forearm where a row of tiny white stripes was barely visible, but raised to the touch, each a memory of lessons not immediately perfected.  
  
“Earth to Morgan,” Dean waved a hand in front of Morgan’s vacant eyes, “where’d you go?”  
  
She shook her head quickly and smiled at Dean, “Sorry, just thinkin’.”  
  
The door above them banged.  
  
“Dean!” Castiel’s voice echoed in the large room, “We’re here, it’s Rowena, Crowley and me! I told you we were coming over!”  
  
Dean chuckled quietly to himself with a smile, “Yea, Cas, c’mon down!”  
  
“Dean!” Morgan jumped up making Dean turn the perimeter and start to reach for his gun, “I smell pizza!”  
  
“Really!?” Dean laughed loudly throwing exaggerated hands in the air after quickly abandoning the pursuit of his pistol, “You’re gonna give me a heart attack kid.”  
  
“You’re fine,” Morgan smiled sweetly and gave him a wink.  
  
“Either way,” he smirked and winked at her, “I should take it easy for a minute. Will you go get a couple beers and somethin’ for yourself, please?” and characteristically he dropped his head and gave her a serious look, “Walk, please, no magic this time.”  
  
“Why?” Morgan looked hurt and was completely taken aback by this order not to use her most valuable skill.  
  
“Because,” Dean seemed to be searching for his reason and ended with, “just because, ok, because I said so.”  
  
Castiel had just reached the bottom of the spiral stairs, Crowley and Rowena behind him, when Morgan stormed passed them towards the kitchen. She didn’t even feel like eating anymore, despite how hungry she was, the idea of going back in there right now was infuriating. He was okay with her magic last night when it saved him from cracking his head on the floor, but now all of a sudden, he was back to distrust. What had she done? She could feel her throat tighten, but actively bit back the sadness and slammed her tiny fists on the metal counter as she entered the kitchen. The sound was not nearly as loud as she’d hoped and pounded again. The third time she brought down her fists she let out a sobbing sound and breathed heavily staring down at the shiny silver surface.  
  
“Better?” Morgan looked up to see Sam leaning in the doorway, smirking at her, she shrugged in response, “What’s the problem now?”  
  
Morgan looked angrily at him, but the flush in her cheeks was proof enough she understood his words had a hard truth in them. In fact, as the words mumbled out of her mouth she realized how pathetically childish she was acting, yet again, “Dean asked me to get drinks without magic.”  
  
“How dare he,” Sam’s words were dripping in sarcasm, Morgan couldn’t meet his eye and felt thoroughly stupid, though still hot with anger, “You good now? I’m hungry.”  
  
She nodded and opened the fridge behind her for two beers and a lemonade, despite his hefty alcohol consumption, Dean had decided she’d had too much pop for someone who was technically still growing. That’s what he said, but Morgan was pretty sure, since she hadn’t drunk all of the missing bottles, Dean did enjoy some liquids that didn’t have a proof percentage. She handed one beer to Sam, but he still blocked her from leaving the kitchen.  
  
“I’d like to talk to you when we’re alone,” he said seriously, “I know all about rage taking over your actions, been there. I’d like to help you find a way to get rid of that, some of it at least, in a healthy way.”  
  
Morgan nodded at him, unsure what he meant, but appreciated he was willing to help her with the emotional turmoil churning inside constantly.  
  
“A’right, let’s go, Brat,” Sam lifted an arm, letting her under and out of the kitchen, “pizza’s getting cold.”  
  
“Ok, Bitch,” she turned and stuck her tongue out at him, but just in case she skipped a little further ahead of him.  
  
“Lucky I’m enjoyin’ this beer, little girl,” Sam chuckled and took a sip.  
  
Dean gave Sam a questioning expression and flickered his gaze at Morgan as she and Sam returned to the library. She saw Sam nod his head slightly at Dean, as if to say he’d taken care of it. Morgan hid her residual bitterness with a huge bite of pizza instead of letting another snarky comment slip. Crowley had found his way back to the arm chair with a full glass of scotch, Rowena leaned against the side of the chair with a bored expression as she examined her finger nails. Castiel stood awkwardly on the other side of Dean, as if their conversation had abruptly ended moments before and he now didn’t know what to do with himself.  
  
“As much as I love being invited to dinner at the Winchester’s,” Crowley swirled his scotch and took a small sip, “Could we get back to business? Moose, is it true he was Dean in her dream?” Crowley stared at Sam, who gave no indication of response, “Guess we know who’s made a deeper impression.”  
  
“Screw you,” Morgan growled at the demon, dropping her pizza slice, her hands instantly in attack position and glaring at him angrily.  
  
“Anytime, darling,” Crowley gave her a sultry smile just before his eyes widened seeing both larger Winchester’s making a move towards him.  
  
“STOP!” Castiel yelled and Morgan felt herself unable to move, like everyone else in the room, “We cannot afford to be at each other’s throats, stop, now!”  
  
Morgan felt her muscles regain control of her body and gave a little shake to be sure, not noticing Sam and Dean respond identically to the lifted spell.  
  
“Yea, it’s true,” Dean muttered bitterly, eyeing Crowley with distain, his fists relaxed, but still formed.  
  
“Well,” Crowley smirked back at Dean, swirling his scotch, “There have been a rash of human deaths, burned out husks of bodies lately, seems he’s desperate to find anyone that can contain him at this point.”  
  
“So, he still doesn’t have a meatsuit?” Dean asked gruffly, Morgan scowled at his insensitive tone, she couldn’t help thinking of all the dead people left in Lucifer’s wake while he pursued her relentlessly.  
  
“From what we understand at the moment,” Castiel spoke in his typical monotoned voice, “no, but he is back above water and very angry.”  
  
“Great,” Morgan mumbled to herself and took a swig of lemonade.  
  
“Kid,” Dean gave her a stern look, “we got this,” he furrowed his brow at her eye roll, but said nothing.  
  
“We just have to get him before he attaches himself to a viable vessel,” Castiel interjected, looking at Morgan with what she expected was his attempt at a caring expression, “Between you and Rowena, there should be more than enough power to return him to the cage.”  
  
Rowena let out a light, indignant scoff.  
  
“Trust me,” Morgan sneered at her, “I’m less thrilled than you are about it.”  
  
Rowena raised her eyebrows and gave Morgan a mysterious smirk, “I doubt it, dear.”  
  
“Screw you, too, bitch, you-”  
  
“Morgan,” Dean growled in a warning tone.  
  
“WHAT?!” She snapped angrily without looking at him.  
  
“Enough!” Dean stepped in front of Morgan, pointing a firm finger at her and she closed her mouth resentfully, seething with anger at him, “Cool it, Cas is right, we need to work together and now is our best chance to take him down.”  
  
Morgan glared at Dean and he glared right back, their matching green eyes narrowed at each other, neither relenting the intense staring contest. She was still bitter from his ‘no magic’ command earlier and every minute in this room had increased her anger, she couldn’t even explain why, but she felt she would explode. Dean saw the emotional turmoil clearly in her face.  
  
“Go to your room,” Dean said simply and her eyes widened at him, burning with more rage.  
  
“Why?!” She yelled even though she’d tried to keep her tone calm.  
  
“Because I can tell you’re headed for a fit and we don’t have time for it right now,” Dean’s voice was calm, but very firm and Morgan knew she wouldn’t be able to talk him out of his decision even if she could get her anger under control, but she still didn’t move “Morgan, do not make me put you in there.”  
  
The image of Dean tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her out of the library in front of everyone was enough to motivate her, begrudgingly, to leave on her own. Not before one more angry glare at Dean and a rather childish stomp with her right foot. She stomped a few more times down the hallway before slamming the door to her bedroom, throwing herself on her bed and bursting into tears of anger and frustration. She was angrier at herself than anything and couldn’t believe the way she was acting, but for some reason she just couldn’t stop. Trapped in the bunker because she was the target of the most powerful evil being ever created, teaming with her Mother’s enemy to learn magic far more advanced than what she was currently capable of and even the simplest spell seemed to make her brother nervous about her. She wanted to be calm, she wanted to rationalize the emotions raging through her, but it was like trying to catch wind and found she was even more upset at her inability to control herself. Pounding her fists into her pillow and kicking her feet did nothing to release the pressure of these relentless emotions that wouldn’t let go.  
  
Morgan turned her head when she heard a knock on her door, knowing it was Dean coming to yell at her about slamming the door in the grand finale of her atrocious behavior. She was surprised when Sam stepped in, holding a plate with a couple pizza slices and her lemonade.  
  
“Here,” he set the plate and bottle on her desk, “I saw you didn’t finish that one piece.”  
  
“Thanks,” she mumbled, she was still very hungry.  
  
“No problem,” he smiled weakly at her and then said heavily, “Dean’ll be in in a bit.”  
  
“Great,” Morgan dropped her head back on the pillow, turning away from Sam.  
  
“Morgan,” Sam sighed, “We’re really just tryin’ to help,” she felt a pang of guilt knowing that was true, but didn’t respond.  
  
A few moments later she heard the door close and burst into a new wave of tears, soaking her pillow.  
  
The clock told her she’d been in her room for two hours and forty-five minutes when two solid taps resounded from the other side of the door. Her stomach turned, but she’d had enough time to stew and calm down and just wanted his lecture over.  
  
“Yeah?” she said quietly, closing Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban at the half way point she’d reached and sat up on her bed.  
  
Dean walked in, his expression serious, and shut the door, crossing his arms in front of himself in his typical intimidating stance.  
  
“Your emotions need to stop taking over your behavior,” Dean stated, getting right to business as usual, “I understand you’re angry, but these random outbursts gotta end. You got me?” she barely nodded at him, “No, you’re gonna talk, or scream, or throw things, or hey, d’ya wanna hit me?” at that she met his eyes, giving him a confused and defeated expression before shaking her head, “Y’sure? Cause if somebody used me as a punching bag my whole life and it suddenly turned upside down into this in a couple days I’d prob’ly wanna hit someone.”  
  
“I’d never wanna hit you,” Morgan mumbled, staring at her brother with pain in her eyes.  
  
“Hurt a lot less than the emotional rollercoaster I keep getting’ thrown off,” he shrugged, Morgan felt that awful tightness return to her throat and knew Dean saw the tears glistening before they fell, “Help me help you.”  
  
A knock on the door was quickly followed by Sam’s entrance and Dean inclined his head at him with an incredulous look. First, he looked at Sam and then at the gym shorts and t-shirt he was carrying, his expression didn’t change.  
  
“Dude,” Sam grinned, “You’re quoting Jerry Maguire you’re in trouble.”  
  
“She doesn’t know it’s Jerry Maguire,” Dean reasoned, “What’re you, just creepin’ outside the door like a- a-”  
  
“Creeper?” Sam offered and Morgan hid a giggle as a cough in her hands, “Whatever, look, Morgan,” Sam turned and sat on her bed, followed soon after by Dean on the other side, “Do you want to cry anymore?” she shook her head at him, “Ok, let’s go yell, throw things and hit some crap then,” he smiled and put the shorts and shirt in her lap, “put these on, you’re runnin’ kid.”  
  
“But it’s ok if you quote Dad,” Dean scoffed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like it? You hate it don't you, that's cool though, I'm gonna keep posting :)
> 
> **Seriously though, this has got to be frustrating to read without line breaks- I've tried a few things, but I'm at a loss- someone help me please!- Hey look at me I figured it out ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *I don't own Supernatural* 
> 
> Well Claire's gone MIA and the boys take Morgan to South Dakota to help Jody...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this quickly so again I hope I'm not overwhelming anyone, but all those tags for spanking are coming I swear! Bear with me another day!

Her dreams later that night were as normal as dreams could be, neither her Mother or Lucifer made an appearance, but Morgan still woke up to Dean on the floor of her bedroom. She’d insisted he didn’t need to and had at least won with the African dream root, finally compromising on him setting up camp next to her bed. Despite her protests, his presence made her feel safer. He looked a lot less intimidating asleep, Morgan thought as she sat up quietly, noticing stiffness in her whole body and felt the urge to move her limbs. Swinging her sore legs over the other side of the bed, she got up silently and tiptoed to the door, slipping out quickly and shutting the door carefully. Sam’s door was still shut and dark in the crack by the floor.  
  
Her mind felt much clearer after several good hours of rest following a brutal first training session. Other than the occasional necessary sprint to remove herself from a situation, Morgan had never really run in her life until last night. She’d begrudgingly followed her brothers to the bunker’s gymnasium, but after only fifteen minutes of panting and sweating she was laughing, the pent-up emotions becoming a distant memory with every obstacle course she ran. Working to exhaustion, the morning brought soreness to every muscle and a clarity she’d never felt before.  
  
Morgan made her way to the kitchen and the clock on the wall informed her it was only 5:45am, but she felt more rested than she had in days. Still, the coffee maker called her name and she quickly set up a fresh pot to brew before turning to the messy kitchen. Seeing the sink brimming with the dishes from last night’s dinner she turned the faucet on hot and started filling one side with soapy water, dumping the pans and plates in one by one. Methodically, she laid a towel on the counter of the now empty side of the sink before sinking her hands into the scalding water. It occurred to her after the first scrubbed pan, she could choose the water temperature now and smiled added a stream of icy water to the soaking pots, enjoying the feeling of it washing over her pink hands. Morgan finished the remaining plates and was cleaning out the sink when Dean stepped into the kitchen.  
  
“Mornin’,” he yawned, his eyes barely open.  
  
“Morning,” she smiled, “Coffee?”  
  
“Yea,” Dean nodded sleepily, picking up a fresh filter and the can of grounds.  
  
“I already made some,” she giggled.  
  
Dean shook his head and blinked a few times, he looked at the full pot of hot fresh coffee, then turned to Morgan, but before he spoke, looked passed her at the sink, “Wow, kid, you been busy.”  
  
“Not really,” she shrugged, “I’ve only been up for a few minutes.”  
  
“Well, thanks, I appreciate it,” Dean grinned and poured a mug of coffee, handing it to her.  
  
“No problem,” she took the cup and started blowing lightly on the steaming liquid, “thanks.”  
  
“You hungry?” Dean grunted, slurping his coffee and pulling away, instantly deciding it was too hot.  
  
“I could eat,” Morgan set the hot mug on the counter, shaking her burnt fingertips.  
  
“We’re outta bacon, we’ve got eggs, or leftovers,” Dean said scanning the contents of the fridge, “could prob’ly use to go for a run today.”  
  
“Dean!” Sam’s call came just before he appeared in the doorway, slightly breathless, his hair a mess and clutching his cell phone, “Jody called- Claire’s missing.”  
  
“Son of a bitch!” Dean immediately set his coffee down, his face serious had drained of color, “How long?”  
  
“She went on a hunt three days ago-,” Sam caught his breath, but stayed in the doorway.  
  
“What the hell is Jody doin’ lettin’ her go hunting by herself?!” Dean barked and slammed a fist onto the counter, nearly knocking his mug over and making Morgan jump, “Damn it!”  
  
“We can ask her that when we get there,” Sam said calmly, it seemed he expected this reaction from Dean, “You know how Claire is, I’m sure Jody didn’t get a whole lotta say.”  
  
Dean nodded slowly, “Ok, yeah, we gotta go. Morgan-”  
  
“I’ll be fine,” she said confidently, but inside she was dreading being left alone in the bunker.  
  
“You’re not stayin’ here alone,” Dean scoffed and Morgan sighed internally with relief, “Go pack whatever you’re gonna need for a few days, clothes, your crystals’ll come in handy if you don’t mind bringin’ ‘em, and then you can help us pack the car.”  
  
Morgan couldn’t hide the smile and quickly ran to her room. She changed and threw almost all her clothes into her duffel bag, seeing as she didn’t have more than a few t-shirts and was already wearing one of her two pairs of jeans. She shoved her sack of crystals into the inside pocket of her jacket so they wouldn’t get knocked around in the basically empty duffel and before she forget, shoved Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azbakan into the bag, determined to finish the last half before they returned.  
  
“Grab your blanket and your pillow,” Sam knocked on her door and stuck his head in, but by the time she’d turned back around, gathering the pillow from her bed, Sam was gone.  
  
Morgan managed to shove the blanket in her duffel, throwing the strap over her shoulder she noticed how much lighter it was without layers of books weighing it down. Clutching her pillow, she glanced around her room quickly and sighed, excited to have an escape and happy to know it would still be here when they returned, she flipped the light switch and ran down the hall towards the garage.  
  
Dean was organizing the trunk when she arrived.  
  
“Throw your stuff in the backseat,” he said, turning back to the trunk.  
  
Morgan did as he asked, finding a green cooler already on the driver’s side floor of the backseat, she tossed her bag on the seat above it and out of curiosity, flipped the top open. Packed to the brim with beer bottles, a couple sodas and lemonades, Morgan smiled, surprised that they thought of her even when they were in a rush.  
  
“Ok, here’s the deal,” she heard Dean slam the trunk and crawled out of the backseat to stand in front of him, “All that listenin’ we’ve been talkin’ about is actually gonna matter out in the real world,” Morgan nodded she understood, but waited for him to continue, “I wouldn’t be doin’ this if I had a choice, but I’m trustin’ you to fall in line here. Understood?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Morgan nodded again, after the personal training session last night she felt drained of the anger that had been controlling her for days and had every intention of showing them her best self.  
  
“Ok,” his serious expression, broke into a grin, “we’re almost outta here. Got everything?” Morgan nodded at him again, “Good. Do you remember I showed you where the extra nine mil rounds are in the range cabinet? Go getem wouldja? I gotta refill these gas tanks.”  
  
Morgan barely heard what Dean needed to do since she was already out of the garage on the task he’d set. She grabbed the four clips where he’d shown her to look for extra ammunition and ran back into the hallway. Skidding to a quick stop as she almost collided with Sam.  
  
“Easy,” he laughed.  
  
“Sorry,” she giggled and jumped around him into the garage.  
  
“It’s almost like she hasn’t left in days, Sam,” Dean chuckled sarcastically, taking the last duffel from Sam and shoving it perfectly into the spot of trunk he’d left available.  
  
“Right,” Sam scoffed, “I don’t think she likes it here.”  
  
Morgan set them both with her best attempt at unamused contempt, she couldn’t help a small smile, “You two are hilarious, you know that?” and to emphasize her point, stuck her tongue out at them, sending them both into chuckling laughter.  
  
“Get in, Brat,” Dean pointed to the open rear passenger door and moved towards the driver’s side.  
  
She slid into the middle of the backseat, pulling the solid steel door shut as Dean turned the ignition over with a loud growl and pulled through the open doors. Sam easily shut both heavy wooden doors together, locking them in the darkness of the tunnel before getting in the passenger seat beside his brother. Dean took the usual turns out of the cave until they emerged in the misty gray light of early morning, the sun just starting to gain height in the sky sending long shadows stretching across fields from scattered trees.  
  
“Where’re we goin’?” Morgan asked as Dean flipped a cassette out and replaced it with another.  
  
“South Dakota,” Dean responded, “Ever been?”  
  
“Never heard of it,” Morgan shrugged.  
  
They looked at each other first in confusion before Sam turned back and asked, “Did you ever learn the states?”  
  
“I know Illinois,” she shrugged again, not liking how stupid she was feeling.  
  
“Well there’s 49 more,” Sam smiled, “we’re in Kansas now, it’s West of Illinois,” Sam pointed towards Dean and then rummaged in the glove compartment and extracted a thick packet of paper, “Here, this is a map of the United States,” Sam hung over the back of the front seat and helped Morgan unfold the colorful page, it was huge and riddled with veins going in all directions. Dean let out a disgruntled sigh but stayed quiet and let Sam continue, “Ok, we are- hereish, and we’re headed this way,” Morgan followed his finger along a thin black line leaving Lebanon, Kansas.  
  
Unfolding another section, she found a familiar name and traced the city of Chicago with her finger and noticed the distance from there to where Sam had pointed. Morgan had never considered how big the country was, she’d learned maps of pre-Renaissance Europe and had memorized star maps as well as planetary shifts, but this was tangible and Morgan poured over the new information. Quickly she assessed their exact location after a couple passed crossroads and expected the highway before it appeared as it was much thicker and blue on the map unlike the black road they’d been traveling on. Sam occasionally turned his head, smiling at her enthusiasm over the map, ready to offer any explanations, and unsurprised that she had already understood and memorized the key and compass.  
  
“Hey, Sam?” Morgan asked, not taking her eyes from the map but heard Sam turn, eager to answer, “What’re these light lines? They aren’t roads.”  
  
“These,” he ran his hand horizontally across the map, “are longitude lines, and these are latitude. So everywhere in the world can be plotted by coordinates using these degrees. See the numbers on the sides? So where are we now?”  
  
Morgan didn’t catch the sideways glance Dean gave Sam, or Sam brushing him off, as she was concentrating on following the two lines from where they were on the map to the sides and located the numbers.  
  
“Forty West and negative ninety-eight North?” She asked and saw Sam throw a smug look at Dean as he put his fist back for her to bump.  
  
“Nice job, kid,” Dean smiled and looked over at Sam, “I think we have a new genius in the family.”  
  
“Fine by me,” Sam chuckled.  
  
“Gimme another one,” Morgan was barely paying attention to their conversation in the front seat and couldn’t tear her eyes from the map.  
  
“How ‘bout Chicago?” Dean looked in the rearview mirror, “Tell me where Monroe and Jackson intersect.”  
  
“Monroe and Jackson don’t intersect,” Morgan said quickly and Dean looked impressed, “but Monroe and Michigan are at forty-two West and negative eighty-seven North, Jackson’s just a block South.”  
  
“Sam,” Dean joked, “she’s also a better navigator, that’s it, you’re in the back.”  
  
“That would matter if you didn’t have every road in the US memorized,” Sam scoffed.  
  
Morgan was enjoying finding coordinates and Sam was happy to oblige, even Dean occasionally threw out a random place. She would find the state and quickly search until she found the name of the town, enjoying how incredible Sam found her speed. They played that game for about an hour before Dean pulled off the highway, just after they entered Nebraska, and into the parking lot of a diner.  
  
Morgan folded the map back perfectly and, at Sam’s gesture, left it on the seat next to her before getting out of the door he’d pulled open.  
  
“Alright, in’n’out, kids,” Dean said holding the door of the diner for Sam and Morgan, “we gotta get back on the road.”  
  
Morgan followed Sam to a booth, sliding in across from him and Dean joined her on the vinyl seat.  
  
“Hiya,” a skinny, young waitress came over with a pot of hot coffee, “coffee?”  
  
“Yes, please,” all three of them said in unison, flipping the mugs in front of them over on their saucers.  
  
She poured their coffees and placed a menu in front of Sam, Morgan and let her hand linger on Dean’s after placing it in front of him. Catching his eye, she gave him a wink before walking off towards the kitchen swaying her hips a bit, Dean jerked his head quickly to the menu. Morgan and Sam shared an amused smile before lowering their eyes to their own menus.  
  
“What’re you havin’?” Dean looked at Morgan who couldn’t stop staring at a picture of a waffle covered in whip cream and strawberries, “Yeah, good choice,” he nodded and Morgan broke into a huge smile, “You’ve never had a waffle before, have you?” she shook her head, still smiling, Dean chuckled, “This’ll be fun.”  
  
“Y’all decide on somethin’?” the waitress returned to the table, keeping her eyes on Dean.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean offered her one of his most charming smiles and Morgan saw the young woman’s cheeks flush a little, “we’re gonna have two of the loaded waffles on this side.”  
  
“And I’ll have the southwest skillet,” Sam said, handing her the menu and giving Morgan an eyebrow waggling overly seductive look while her and Dean exchanged brief small talk. Morgan covered her mouth to hold in the giggling fit, but laughed out loud when Dean snapped his head at Sam, who abruptly stopped making eyes and smiled innocently at their older brother.  
  
“Nice,” Dean shook his head at both of them as the waitress walked away and Morgan laughed again before breathing deeply a few times until the giggles subsided into a smile, “Ok, so what do we know about Claire’s disappearance?”  
  
“Not much,” Sam shrugged, “Jody said she was on a werewolf hunt, Claire called her and let’er know it was goin’ well but hasn’t heard from her since and her phone’s goin’ straight to voicemail.”  
  
“And that was yesterday?” Dean asked in a low growl.  
  
“Day before,” Sam responded, Morgan saw Dean clench his fist and close his eyes for a moment, “Did you call Cas?”  
  
“Crap,” Dean released his fist and dug his phone out of his pocket with some difficulty, swiped the screen a few times and held it to his ear, “Cas, hey- we’re fine, but we’re on our way to Sioux Falls- she’s with us, she’s fine, listen Cas, Claire is missing- we don’t know, Jody called this morning, I guess she was on a wolf hunt by- yea, that’s gonna be my first question- ok, we’ll see you in a few hours,” Dean jammed the screen again with his index finger and set it face down on the table instead of fighting to get it back in his pocket.  
  
“So, who’s Claire?” Morgan asked after a few moments of awkward silence.  
  
Dean snorted in a strange brief laugh and Sam sort of shrugged with an unsure expression, they shared a quick look and Dean spoke, “Cas’s vessel Jimmy’s daughter.”  
  
Morgan raised her eyebrows, “Well,” she looked at Dean and then Sam, “that sucks.”  
  
The nodded in agreement, but the conversation was halted by the arrival of their food. Morgan had never seen anything so decadent, the huge waffle was barely visible under the mountain of sweet strawberries and whipped cream. For a brief moment, she wasn’t sure how to start eating it, but Dean nudged her with his elbow and she watched him expertly flatten the cream over the entire waffle, cut a large bite, swirl it in cream and scooped a few strawberries on top before giving Morgan a wink and shoving the forkful in his mouth. She instantly mimicked him and the explosion of flavor was unbelievable, Morgan devoured half the waffle barely breathing in between bites. When she looked up, Sam was staring wide eyed at her, but Dean was grinning with a full mouth and matching her speed. She glanced at him, seeing the invitation in the competitive raise of his eyebrows and returned in full force to finish her waffle before him. Sam watched them in slightly disgusted awe, barely eating his own breakfast to observe the race ensuing in front of him.  
  
Morgan was so full by the time she shoved the last bite in her mouth she almost couldn’t finish it, but seeing Dean was one bite behind her she forced herself to swallow hard and slammed her fork on the table with a satisfied grin. He covered his mouth and swallowed hard, fighting the laughter and putting his arm around her shoulders. Sam shook his head and returned to his skillet.  
  
“Yep,” Dean nodded proudly at Sam, “she’s definitely my sister.”  
  
Morgan smiled and leaned into Dean’s side, feeling uncomfortably full, but reveling in the prideful tone Dean had used to call her his sister.  
  
The waitress returned, giving Dean a small grin, took both their plates, but dropped a napkin in front of him before returning to the kitchen. Dean chuckled, crumpled the napkin and shoved it in his jacket pocket. Sam shook his head in disbelief, swallowing hard before pointing his fork at Dean and scoffing.  
  
“Seriously?”  
  
“What can I say, Sammy?” Dean shrugged, Morgan looked at both of them confused.  
  
“You have a waffle race and she still drops her number?” Sam stabbed at his skillet.  
  
“Don’t be jealous,” Dean smirked.  
  
“I’m not jealous,” Sam snapped after taking a small bite and pushing the empty skillet away from him, “let’s go.”  
  
Dean chuckled, but didn’t continue baiting his brother and slid out of the booth, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He threw a twenty on the table, gave the waitress another charming smile complete with a wink and Morgan thought the young woman would faint. Sam rolled his eyes, holding the door for Morgan, she made a silly attempt at a seductive face at him and the two fell into a fit of laughter on the way to the Impala.  
  
“You two are hilarious, you know that?” Dean joking sneered Morgan’s earlier words and she stuck her tongue out at him before jumping back in the car.  
  
For a couple hours, Morgan sat quietly studying the map while Sam and Dean discussed Claire and possible theories on the cause of her disappearance. Morgan listened in a bit, noticing especially that both her brothers cared for Claire, but thought she was too headstrong and undisciplined, and worried that it finally caught up with her. Morgan silently hoped Claire was alright, feeling guilty she couldn’t help until they arrived at Jody’s, having explained to Dean and Sam already that until she had a visual or personal possession of who she was seeking it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.  
  
Dean cranked the music up a little when Sam and he had finished discussing Claire. Sam pulled his laptop out and started searching local news sites and crime blogs near Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Morgan extracted Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban from her duffel, settled into the corner of the backseat and fell back into the story, ignoring the snippets of conversations for several hours as she finished the epic third installment. As she closed the hardcover and saw they were still in the middle of nowhere, Morgan wished she’d asked Sam for the fourth before they left and let out a sad, quiet sigh.  
  
She heard Sam clear his throat and raised her eyes to see his arm reaching behind the seat clutching a huge, green hardcover with the words Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire embossed in gold on the side. Morgan actually squealed in surprised delight.  
  
“Thank you, Sam!” and she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek before taking the book eagerly and sitting back to indulge in the new treasure.  
  
“You’re welcome, sweetie,” he smiled, “That one should take you a little longer.”  
  
Morgan turned the book over in her hands, it was twice the length of the first three. Without further inspection, she cracked the front cover open and poured over the first page, immersing herself in the world of Hogwarts. When they stopped for gas, Dean unnecessarily told her to stay in the car without even garnering a response as she turned another page. When they finally arrived in Sioux Falls and stopped in Jody’s driveway, Sam gently slid a giant hand over the open pages to get her attention.  
  
“We’re here,” he smiled when she looked up at him curiously.  
  
Morgan marked her page with an empty M&M’s wrapper and followed Sam’s lead up to the front door of the ranch house. They passed a Sherriff’s truck in the driveway and Morgan felt a tight grip twist her stomach a little, the same feeling she always got near law enforcement. Dean patted her shoulder encouragingly, as she dawdled a second looking at the lights on the truck roof, and gently steered her to the front door. Before they reached the stoop, a middle-aged woman with short brown hair and a thin tear-streaked face opened the door and tried to say something, but broke into a sob and Sam immediately wrapped his strong arms around her.  
  
“I- I- I don’t-t know,” she cried, “I’v-ve been searching, t-the whole f-f-force is out, I c-can’t tell them w-why and I’m r-running ou-out of ex-cuses.”  
  
“Jody,” Sam shushed her gently and lead her back into the house, “calm down, she’ll be ok, we’re gonna find her.”  
  
Dean gestured for Morgan to follow Sam first and she felt a quick rush of energy passing the threshold. Jody’s house was not as heavily warded as the bunker, but it certainly had had some helpful influence against dark magic and demons. Morgan hoped insane archangels were also covered, but doubted it.  
  
Jody breathed deeply and wiped tears from her cheeks before fixing Dean with a sad attempt at a smile and glancing quickly at Morgan. She returned her eyes to Dean with a pleading expression, “Guys, I can’t, I’m sorry, with Alex and Claire, it’s just already so much, you know I would-”  
  
“No, no,” Dean shook his head, giving Jody a hug and then smiled at Morgan putting his arm around her shoulders, “this one’s ours. Morgan, this is Sherriff Jody Mills, Jody, this is our sister, Morgan.”  
  
Jody’s eyes widened at Dean, shifted to Morgan and for a moment she just looked between the two of them and Sam wordlessly before clearing her throat with a brief head shake, “Sister? I- huh y’know- she looks like you, Dean,” Jody stumbled over the words glancing between the green-eyed Winchesters and once to Sam.  
  
“We’ll get it into it later,” Dean nodded at Jody, “We need to find Claire.”  
  
Instantly, Jody’s face broke again and her tears renewed streaming down her cheeks, “I don’t know where to even look!”  
  
“We’ve gotcha covered,” Dean smiled and patted Morgan’s shoulder proudly, turning to his sister he asked, “What do you need?”  
  
“Something of Claire’s,” Morgan responded, “something close if not actually part of her, and a picture.”  
  
“Part of her?” Jody repeated slowly.  
  
“Hair would be great, if she has her own hairbrush,” Morgan said quietly.  
  
Jody stared at Dean, her wide eyes narrowed, “Is she a-”  
  
“A witch?” Dean raised his eyebrows in a slightly challenging expression and Morgan felt his grip tighten a little on her shoulder, “Yeah, and she’s great and she wants to help.”  
  
“I do,” Morgan nodded in earnest at the woman who’s face softened and she nodded before leading them through the living room to the dining room table.  
  
“Make yourselves at home,” Jody gestured to the table and kitchen, “I’ll be right back.”  
  
Morgan dug her bag of crystals out of her pocket and shifted it in her hands, staring at the sack but not paying it any attention, feeling uncomfortable and wishing she were back in the Impala with her book. Sam saw the disheartened look on her face and put his arm over her shoulders.  
  
“Most hunters don’t have the best experiences with witches,” he smiled down at her after getting her to look at him, “don’t let it bother you, and they’ll get over it really quick, trust me.”  
  
She gave her brother a small smile at his vague threat, but looked again at her hands when Jody walked back in the room carrying a brown hairbrush and photograph. She set them on the table in front of Dean even though Morgan was right next to him, Morgan felt resentfully unwelcome and longed for the arm chair in the library.  
  
“Ok, kid,” Dean pushed the brush and picture of a young, pretty blonde girl in front of Morgan and she thought she caught a quick glare cross Dean’s face, but he was smiling at her when she glanced up at him, “Let’s go, we’ll get the lights.”  
  
Sam and Dean closed the curtains in the open room as Morgan shook her crystals onto the table and arranged them specifically. She sat and concentrated for a moment in the darkened room on the picture of Claire. She was very pretty, Morgan could see a little resemblance from Castiel and wondered what this girl’s life became when she lost her father because he agreed to be an earthly vessel for an angel. Forcing all her concentration on the picture she had just studied Morgan plucked a long blonde hair from Claire’s brush, wrapped it around both index fingers gently and set her hands over the arranged crystals. Closing her eyes tightly, Morgan began muttering the familiar Latin incantation and felt her power begin to warm her fingertips.  
  
Laughter filled her ears before the image became clear. Claire was reclined on a couch in her underwear, a can of beer in her hand and a cigarette in the other, laughing happily at something Morgan didn’t have in focus. Turning her gaze in the room, Morgan felt heat hit her face and not from power, she’d never seen a naked man before, especially one dancing around. Nearly losing her concentration, Morgan jerked her focus back to Claire and searched the room for clues as to her whereabouts. There was a window, a full size one which told Morgan they weren’t in a basement, and the shadow of a bush reflected on the bottom of the ragged curtain. Peering hard through a hole in the top of the fabric she saw part of a neon red sign across the street but all she could read was “UT INN”. Suddenly, Claire squealed and Morgan snapped her gaze back to the girl, but saw the naked boy had jumped on top of her, wrapping her slender legs around his waist, Morgan quickly released her focus on the entire session.  
  
The cool rush brought Jody’s dining room back into her sights, but Morgan couldn’t look at any of them as she tried to shake the last image from her mind.  
  
“What’d you see?” Dean urged, but Morgan wouldn’t look at her brother.  
  
Staring at her fidgeting hands, she finally glanced at Sam’s understanding face, “She’s ok, I think, she’s um,” and Morgan looked pleadingly at Sam, who got the message and leaned in so she could whisper to him, “she’s with a boy and he’s not, um they aren’t wearing clothes,” Morgan trailed off, knowing her face was a deep shade of red and watched Sam back up and stare at her in shock.  
  
“What?” Dean nearly barked, “What’s goin’ on? Morgan, c’mon, what’dja see?”  
  
“Dean,” Sam held a hand for him to stop pestering, “Claire’s fine. Morgan, did you see anything else? Landmark or somethin’?”  
  
“I tried,” she nodded, “they’re on the first floor somewhere and there’s a sign across the street. I could only see part of it, it was a red, lit up sign and I saw ‘u t space i n n’, but there was more before the u.”  
  
“Walnut Inn!” Jody said instantly to Dean, “That place has a red neon sign,” then she looked at Morgan with her eyebrows nearly touching, “who’s ‘they’?”  
  
Morgan’s face flushed again and she averted her eyes back to her hands.  
  
“Kid,” Dean’s tone was clearly on the brink of frustration and Morgan winced before looking up at him through long eyelashes, but Sam stepped in with a hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Stop,” Sam said decisively and Dean blinked at him with well-hidden surprise, “Claire is with a guy,” Sam and Morgan watched as Dean’s face changed from confusion to understanding to stone cold anger.  
  
Jody let out a growling sigh that turned into a yell, making Morgan jump in the chair as the older woman threw her hands in the air and stalked to the kitchen. Jody yanked a bottle of whiskey from on top of the fridge, unscrewed the cap and took two long pulls from the bottle. Morgan, Sam and Dean turned as the front door slammed.  
  
“Sam! Dean!” A young girl with long dark hair ran through the living room and hugged Sam. Morgan snuck off the chair and took a few steps behind both brothers as they welcomed the girl.  
  
“Alex, this is Morgan,” Sam turned so her and the girl were face to face, “Morgan, Alex.”  
  
Morgan smiled weakly at her, noticing Alex’s unsure glance at Sam and Dean.  
  
“You’re not leaving her here are you?” Alex asked Dean rather bitterly and Morgan felt sick briefly before Dean crossed his arms at Alex and answered.  
  
“No, we’re not,” he responded in his low growl, “she’s just found Claire for us.”  
  
“Oh,” Alex blushed and looked almost apologetically at Morgan and then Dean.  
  
“Jody, Sam and I are gonna go get’er,” Dean continued firmly, “Can you two please just stay here while we’re gone?”  
  
“Well my friend is comin’ to get me for the mall in a few minutes,” Alex gave him a frustrated shrug.  
  
“Alex, please,” Dean softened his tone, “I really don’t want her alone.”  
  
“She’s a big girl,” Alex scoffed and Morgan felt a rush of anger, she was undoubtedly more capable of taking care of herself than this girl.  
  
“Dean I’m fine,” she said firmly to her brother, but at his unhappy look she took a more pleading tone, “or I could stay in the Impala.”  
  
“Yeah, see?” Alex began but was interrupted by a loud slamming, everyone jumped and looked at Jody.  
  
“Damn it, Alex!” Jody yelled, her fists still on the table, “Claire has given me a near heart-attack in the last few days, thanks to this girl I can breathe again and I’d like to get my hands on Claire in the next hour, so could you please just cooperate and stay here until we get back?!”  
  
“Yeah, fine,” Alex rolled her eyes, dropped her backpack at her feet and finally set her eyes on Morgan, “So, what’re you a neighborhood watchdog too? Hunter in training?”  
  
Morgan smirked at her, “I’m a witch,” and watched as surprise and fear drained the color from Alex’s recently smug face, her eyes frantically shifting from Morgan to Sam and Dean.  
  
“And she’s our sister,” Dean said and looked at Morgan shaking his head with a stern face that she could tell was hiding a little amusement.  
  
“What?” Alex laughed in disbelief.  
  
“We just met,” Sam offered to both Alex and Jody, putting an arm around Morgan with a quick encouraging smile, “and she’s one hundred percent Winchester.”  
  
“Good enough for me,” Jody said clapping her hands, “Can we get this show on the road boys? I have a twenty-year-old to kill.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “let’s hit it.”  
  
Morgan followed Dean to the front door and nearly ran into his back as he stopped abruptly before the threshold and turned, looking down at her and crossing his arms.  
“Where’dya think your goin’?” He asked raising his eyebrows.  
  
“I just wanted to get the book,” she mumbled at him.  
  
“I’ll bring it to you,” he nodded, “You noticed Jody’s place is warded?” Morgan nodded at him, “We’ll be back soon, keep your phone on you, I’ll call, and don’t leave the house. We clear?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” she nodded at him and felt Sam squeeze her shoulder.  
  
“We’ll be quick,” he smiled down at her and she nodded.  
  
Jody returned to the living room, shoving a pistol into a belt holster she’d just put on, “We ready?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean nodded, opened the door to let Jody and Sam out first and followed quickly behind them, shutting the front door.  
  
Morgan was sure he’d forgotten as she heard the Impala growl to life and sat harder than she meant to on the couch. The front door flew open and Morgan looked over as Dean set the huge hardcover in her lap, grabbed the back of her head planting a quick kiss on her forehead.  
  
“Lock the door,” he ordered and shut it behind him as soon as he saw her stand.  
  
“So,” Alex sat in an oversized arm chair near the dining room, Morgan locked the door and turned to the dark-haired girl, “they’re your brothers, huh?”  
  
“Guess so,” Morgan mumbled and sat back on the couch, determined to ignore Alex as much as possible.  
  
“And you’re a witch?” Alex was staring at her, but Morgan picked up the fourth installment of Harry Potter and cracked it open to the M&M’s wrapper.  
  
“Yup,” she answered quickly.  
  
“How’s that work?” Alex continued her questioning despite Morgan’s clear disinterest, barely offering her a shrug in response, “Look, I’m sorry I was a bitch,” this made Morgan look up from the pages, “Claire and I are already so on and off with each other, three girls in this house with Jody would be miserable,” Morgan nodded and Alex continued, “I didn’t mean to be so-”  
  
“Rude?” Morgan offered when Alex trailed off for a word to complete her thought.  
  
“Yeah,” Alex nodded with a small smile, “sorry.”  
  
“S’cool,” Morgan shrugged and tried to return to her book.  
  
“So,” Alex pushed, “c’mon, talk.”  
  
Morgan stared at her with raised eyebrows, hoping she would continue with a question or prompt for what she was supposed to say.  
  
“What kinds of things can you do?” she asked, leaning forward in the chair.  
  
“Lots a stuff,” Morgan shrugged, but set her book on the couch, realizing she wasn’t going to get any reading done at the moment.  
  
“Like?” Alex pressured.  
  
“Wha’daya want?” Morgan smirked at Alex.  
  
“Can you make stuff fly?” Alex wondered with a smile and Morgan decided to have a little bit of fun, giving the girl a mysterious smile she concentrated on the chair Alex was sitting in and saw the look of surprised terror on Alex’s face finding her feet leaving the floor as the chair levitated a few feet of the ground, “Hey!”  
  
“You asked,” Morgan giggled after the chair touched back down.  
  
Alex looked angry, but suddenly broke into a giggle too, “Ok, that was kinda fun,” the two girls smiled at each other for a second as they stopped laughing and outside a horn honked twice in the driveway, “So, listen,” Alex stood up and grabbed her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder, “my friend and I are headed to the mall, come with, it’ll be fun.”  
  
Morgan wasn’t about to argue with Alex that she had also been told to stay put, but she had no intention of disobeying her brother’s direct order, “Dean told me to stay here.”  
  
“They won’t be back for a while,” Alex reasoned confidently, though Morgan knew she had no idea when to expect their return.  
  
Morgan shook her head, “No, thanks, I’m good.”  
  
“Ok,” Alex unlocked the front door and looked sideways at Morgan, “You sure?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Morgan nodded.  
  
“I’ll be back before they get home,” she said and then gave Morgan a slightly pleading look, “Do me a favor and don’t tell ‘em I left? I just already told my friend I would.”  
  
“I won’t say a word,” Morgan assured her honestly, knowing she wouldn’t have to say anything anyway, somehow Dean would find out.  
  
Alex smiled at her and left, closing the front door behind her. Morgan locked it again and sat back down in the peace and quiet to enjoy the second half of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. She had just finished another chapter when her phone vibrated in her jeans pocket.  
  
“Hi, Dean,” she flipped the phone open, closing the book on her finger to mark her spot.  
  
“Hey, sweetie, how’s it goin’?” his tone was upbeat.  
  
“Fine. D’ja find Claire?”  
  
“Yeah,” he scoffed, “We’ll be back to Jody’s in about half an hour. You and Alex doin’ ok?”  
  
Morgan felt heat rise on her cheeks and her stomach twisted as she said the next words, “Yeah, we’re- we’re good.”  
  
“Good, she’s a nice girl, really,” he said, “We’ll see you soon, kid.”  
  
“Ok,” Morgan muttered and they both hung up.  
  
Morgan didn’t reopen the book. She looked out the window at the beautiful sky, just the beginning of sunset, and willed Alex to come back. I just lied to my brother, Morgan thought and felt her gut twist further with guilt. Catching a glimpse of her crystals still arranged on the table, Morgan leapt across the room, pulling curtains closed as she went, and threw herself in the dining room chair. She was determined to at least check Alex’s estimated arrival time against her brothers’, and took a deep breath before concentrating her mind on Alex and muttering the incantation over her crystals.  
  
She heard crowds of people talking and laughing, suddenly Alex’s smiling face popped up sharing a huge pretzel with another girl. The mall was full of people, Morgan could see blurs of figures walking around Alex and her friend, but one blur wasn’t moving, a dark spot lurking in the background. Something about the aura of energy from this person caught Morgan’s attention, it was hateful and angry. She focused behind Alex and the dark blur came into focus, a man, maybe Sam’s age or so, in a dark hooded sweatshirt with sunken eyes and pale skin was glaring at Alex and her friend ominously. Morgan felt fear and returned her focus to Alex, she and her friend were walking down the hallway from the pretzel stand, the dark blur followed closely. The two girls threw the last few bites and cheese cup into a garbage can and walked into a store, Morgan focused again on the hooded man who lurked outside pretending to look at cell phone cases, ignoring the saleswomen trying to get his attention. Morgan knew there was something not right happening and continued to watch how the scene played out. After what felt like an hour, Alex and her friend exited the store without any shopping bags and the pale man started to follow behind them again. Morgan was tiring and didn’t know how much longer she could hold her focus, but was afraid to leave Alex. The girls turned down a deserted corridor and Morgan felt her stomach drop, wishing they would turn back into the heavily trafficked main hallway, but they walked towards the women’s restroom and a few moments later the man followed. Alex’s friend went to walk into the bathroom first, but turned to speak to Alex and Morgan saw fear cover the girl’s face, before she could react the man had rushed at them. He shoved her friend into the wall, her head striking hard against the concrete blocks and she crumpled to the floor as he grabbed Alex, roughly clapping a hand over her mouth and dragging her out a nearby emergency exit. Morgan tried to scream when the alarm didn’t sound, but she was doing everything she could to hold her focus. She barely brought her gaze passed the door when she saw the man running across the dusky parking lot at an inhuman speed with Alex unconsciously bobbing over his shoulder. Unable to follow his race into the darkness between buildings, she let go and Morgan felt a cool rush as Jody’s dining room table was blurred, just inches from her nose.  
  
She breathed heavy, blinking to bring the whole room into focus, it was much darker than when she’d started the scry session. Morgan was shaking, but jumped to her feet and pulled her phone from her pocket, flipping it open to call Dean just as she heard the front door unlock. Jody walked in first, followed by a very angry Claire, Sam and finally Dean.  
  
“Alex!” was all Morgan could breathe out and immediately had all four of their attentions.  
  
“Where is she?” Dean barked.  
  
“She left with her friend to go to the mall,” Morgan said, not caring if Dean yelled at her for lying to him because Alex was in far greater trouble.  
  
“I thought-” Dean started to growl.  
  
“I lied!” Morgan yelled, “I’m sorry, you can lecture me later, ok, I’m sorry! She asked me not to tell and thought she’d be back before you guys, but then you called and I wanted to see if she was close and her friend just got attacked at the mall and this guy took Alex! He carried her across the parking lot like he was super-human or something, Dean!”  
  
Sam, Dean, Jody and Claire exchanged looks briefly before Dean opened the front door again.  
  
“Let’s go! Jody take your truck with Claire, I’ll follow you to the mall,” Dean pointed at Morgan, “Grab your crystals and c’mon!”  
  
Morgan quickly gathered them into the small sack and rushed back to follow Sam out the door Jody and Claire had already exited. Dean set her with a stern glare and she averted her eyes away from his.  
  
“You can bet’cher ass we’re gonna talk about you lyin’ to me later,” he said as she glanced at him quickly through long eyelashes and hurried over the threshold, fighting the sting of threatening tears.  
  
Morgan silently slid onto the hard leather backseat, guilt swirling in her stomach. She should’ve told Alex to stay, threatened to call Dean and Jody right then even if Alex hated her for it, but now Morgan could only hope they’d find her in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to know what you think!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to Alex and can they get to her in time?

Dean landed hard in the driver’s seat and had the Impala reversing barely after he’d cranked the engine back over. Silently, they followed the Sherriff truck, Dean didn’t even turn the radio on and stared angrily out at the road. A few times, Morgan almost opened her mouth to explain herself, but bit her lips together knowing it was fruitless and just stayed quiet in the dark backseat. Jody pulled into a large parking lot not long after they’d been on the road and Morgan recognized the buildings from the brief glance she’d gotten of the man carrying Alex at an inhuman speed across the parking lot.  
  
“Dean,” she pipped up timidly and while he didn’t turn around she heard him grunt and nod his head that he was listening, “He went that way,” Morgan pointed ahead of them to the left and he was suddenly accelerating next to the truck and waving Jody down.  
  
“Morgan said he went that way,” Sam cranked the window down and pointed the direction Morgan had when Jody was parallel to them.  
  
“Hasn’t been a nest around here I know of,” Jody sounded defeated, but her face was stone, “Can she try and look again? I don’t even know where to start, boys.”  
  
“Morgan?” Sam turned to her, “Can you scry her again?”  
  
“I’ll try,” Morgan said quietly, “Can I- I have to-”  
  
“What?” Dean barked impatiently and again Morgan felt tears sting her eyes.  
  
“I d-don’t have r-room. C-can I g-get out?” she did her best to hide the breaking sound from her tightening throat.  
  
She saw Sam level Dean with an angry scowl before getting out and opening her door for her. Morgan stood up and found herself wrapped in one of Sam’s compassionate hugs.  
  
“Thank you for your help, Morgan,” Sam smiled down and let her go, “We need you.”  
  
She smiled weakly at him, feeling a little better and was absolutely determined to find Alex to remedy her mistake. Morgan knelt on the hard asphalt of the mall parking lot and quickly, but meticulously, placed her crystals on the ground in front of her. Ok, Alex, where are you? Morgan muttered the memorized incantation, pulling every bit of energy she had left to hold her focus on finding Alex.  
  
She didn’t hear anything at first, the sounds of the parking lot had vanished, replaced with nothing for a moment and then distant grumbling laughter made Morgan turn, trying to find a source. Pale light barely lit the room enough for her to see wooden beams and wide planks laid crudely for a floor, a strangely familiar rancid smell filled her nostrils. A soft whimpering came from behind her and Morgan turned her gaze around, peering into the shadowy corner, she finally saw the outline of a mattress with a girl duck taped to the rusted bed frame, Alex bound with tight silver binds. In the faint moonlight, Morgan saw shiny liquid staining streams down her arms and legs, some fresh blood running over spots of dried clumps and deep cuts. A creaking sound tore her attention from Alex’s nearly unconscious form, someone was walking upstairs into the room, Morgan watched helplessly as a figure appear from the floor, growing taller. It was not the same man from the mall, this man was much larger and he loomed closer to the bed Alex was restrained on. Morgan heard Alex try to scream, clearly so drained of energy and blood there was no fight left. Turning back to watch over Alex, Morgan caught sight again of the ceiling’s high rafters and patches of missing roof, realizing the awful smell was cow manure. Feeling the little energy she had draining fast, Morgan tried to muster every bit of emotion she could to attack the man the way she had the ghost going after Sam, but felt weak and her head began to throb, she heard the men laugh below them again. His dirty face became clear as he stepped out of a shadow, smiling menacingly at Alex, his fangs gleaming in the moonlight.  
  
Morgan felt fear flood her, a renewed energy of sorts took over with a muddled understanding of what she must do, her power now entirely controlled by emotion. I have to help Alex! Dean can’t hate me! Her brother’s disappointment plus her own guilt and fear mixed into an instinctual animalistic anger as the giant, fanged man took another step towards Alex. His gaze faltered and he tried to concentrate on the air between them, where Morgan’s raging gaze was growing stronger. His eyes grew wide and he took a step back, fists raised and fangs bared, as if he could fight the strange purple storm cloud forming between himself and his victim. Morgan’s head pounded and she felt herself losing grip. The only spell that made sense burst from her with the last bit of energy she had left, “DORMIRESTRICTA!” Just as she felt her head on the verge of explosion, nausea rushing from the pit of her stomach, Morgan saw the giant man snap to attention on his feet despite being fast asleep.  
  
The cool rush bringing her back to herself was accompanied by hot vomit purging all over her crystals. Morgan clutched her pounding head not realizing her hands were keeping her from falling face first onto the ground. Before she hit, however, strong arms gathered around her and she was pulled back into Dean’s crouched lap, squeezing her aching head and sobbing.  
  
“B-barn – l-loft-t – AHH – Alex is t-tied uuuuUUUUU,” her skull was wracked with pain and more vomit was threatening in the back of her throat, “an-and he he h-h-has f-fANGS – OW – it’s not the s-same g-guy! It HURTS!” Morgan couldn’t say anything else, talking had increased the already unbearable beating in her head.  
  
Morgan felt more vomit travelling up her throat and threw herself forward to avoid getting any on Dean. Her knee crunched painfully on something as she layered the asphalt again with puke, adding a gush of tears with her screams of pain. Her head and now her knee stabbed Morgan with such unbelievable agony her vision began to blur and suddenly she felt weightless as darkness engulfed her.  
00000000000000000000000  
Before Morgan opened her eyes, she could tell the room was bright. Her head was still throbbing lightly, but nothing to what she remembered experiencing. Longing for water to soothe her burning throat, Morgan opened her eyes and found Dean asleep in the arm chair next to her in a clean hospital room. Blinking a few times, Morgan put a hand gently over an IV in her forearm. Moving her eyes down the hospital sheets covering her, she inclined her head at the abnormally large lump where her left knee was and suddenly felt a knife stabbing the exact spot.  
  
Morgan cried out and Dean woke with a snort, immediately looking at her with concern.  
  
“Nurse!” Dean called towards the door, barely taking his eyes off her as he banged the red button on the bed.  
  
“Dean,” Morgan croaked as the pain dulled in her leg, “I’m fine.”  
  
He all but ignored her as a heavy-set woman with short gray hair and pink scrubs hurried into the room.  
  
“She’s awake,” Dean stood, but stayed next to Morgan’s bed, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, “but she’s in a lot of pain.”  
  
“I’m not-” but before Morgan could finish her protest, another jab of sharp pain shot up her leg and she shoved her hand in her mouth to stifle the cry. Dean squeezed her shoulder and looked at her sympathetically.  
  
The nurse shook her head and glared at Dean, squeezing between him and Morgan’s bed, sending a twinge of anger through Morgan and she narrowed her eyes at the woman speaking to her, “Your brother told me what happened, but I want to hear it from you.”  
  
“Whad’ya wanna hear?” Morgan bit through gritted teeth, “I’m sure he did a great job.”  
  
The nurse fixed her with a familiar, kind stare trying to coax her into feeling comfortable with an understanding tilt of her head. She wasn’t the first medical professional to pry into whether Morgan was being abused, but she was the first that was wrong.  
  
“My brother told you,” Morgan softened her gaze at the nurse, “honestly, ma’am, I’ve been so sick lately I’m not even sure what happened,” she took a shot and internally sighed with relief when Dean’s quick thumbs up flashed over her gray head.  
  
“Alright,” the nurse gave her an unsure smile and shook her head, “you’re pretty banged up, sprained knee and took a while to get you to stop throwing up,” Morgan blushed and the nurse patted her hand, “Just checking you know,” Morgan nodded and the plump nurse added a little more pain medication to her IV before leaving the room.  
  
“How’ya doin’?” Dean sat back down and scooted the chair closer to the bed.  
  
“Sore, I guess, just – ALEX!?” Morgan suddenly remembered, sitting up so fast her head throbbed painfully again and she clasped both hands over her skull as Dean gently forced her to lay back down.  
  
“She’s fine,” he said in a hushed tone, “thanks to you, Morgan. She just got here, few floors down. Because of you, they found her in time and took out an entire nest of vampires.”  
  
“Vampires?” Morgan stared at him, slowly lowering her arms.  
  
“Alex used to work for a nest, more like their slave really,” Dean explained, “one of ‘em apparently made it through the first purge, but they took care of him.”  
  
“They?” Morgan inclined her head at him.  
  
“Sam, Jody and Claire,” Dean looked at her quizzically, “Cas showed up fashionably late to kill the last two I guess.”  
  
“You guess? Weren’t you there?” Morgan shook her head and asked with a little edge in her tone.  
  
“Sweetie,” Dean chuckled lightly and brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face, “you collapsed in your own puke and it sounded like you broke a knee cap. I rushed here with you and Sam went with the girls to get Alex. Convenient there’s two of us, huh?”  
  
He winked and Morgan stared at him in awe, feeling tears well again in her eyes.  
  
“Stop it, kid,” Dean smirked and pointed a jokingly stern finger at her, “Don’t even be surprised.”  
  
Morgan just grinned at him with misty eyes and her smile spread wide across her face as Sam hurried into the room.  
  
“Hey, look who’s up,” he smiled at her, striding quickly to her bed and leaning in to kiss her forehead, “you were incredible, Morgan.”  
  
She couldn’t help but smirk and roll her eyes at his patronizing compliments.  
  
“What?” Sam inclined his head, “you don’t remember?”  
  
“Remember what?” she shrugged.  
  
“Well,” Sam smiled, “why don’t you tell me who’s idea it was to put that vamp in a standing sleep spell,” she returned his encouraging look with a grin, “It was genius, Morgan, a really smart move and Alex is safe because you thought fast and made the right call.”  
  
Morgan couldn’t help the growing smile from Sam’s praise, humbly explaining her hurried thought process, “I’d heard them laughing and knew if he hit the ground or a wall they’d all rush up there and I couldn’t hold on anymore.”  
  
“You held on just long enough,” Sam nodded, “So, how are you doin’?”  
  
“M’ok,” she shrugged sorely, but felt a satisfying dullness tingle through her veins and knew the drugs were kicking in, her eyelids suddenly heavy, “M’tired, but Alex is ok?”  
  
“She will be,” Sam nodded.  
  
Dean brushed her hair back again, seeing her eyelids flutter, “Go back to sleep, little girl, I’ll be right here.”  
  
Knowing that was true, Morgan nodded, happy to close her eyes and fell back into darkness.  
  
Her head ache had completely subsided by the time she woke up again, the room was even brighter with sunlight streaming through the blinds. Morgan blinked her eyes into focus with her head turned towards the chair Dean had been in, but her heart sank when it was empty. Glancing around the room she realized quickly she was alone and felt that familiar lonely dread feeling pang her gut.  
  
“Thanks, doc,” Morgan’s ears perked up at the low, growling voice, “she’s good to go then? Yea, she’ll be stayin’ off that leg for a while, don’t worry.”  
  
Dean walked back into the room and smiled seeing Morgan awake, “Hey, kiddo, you’re gettin’ outta here in a bit. Lotsa fun pain meds and all.”  
  
Morgan giggled, “Great. Can we go home please?”  
  
“Soon,” he nodded with an understanding raise of his eyebrows that said he’d like to be nowhere better.  
  
“Hey,” two soft knocks came on the door and Morgan saw Jody standing in the doorway.  
  
“Come in,” Dean waved Jody into the room and she slowly approached the end of Morgan’s bed with a funny grimace.  
  
“Morgan,” she sighed, “You didn’t meet me under the best circumstances and I’m sorry if I was- unwelcoming,” Jody offered an apologetic smile and Morgan returned it with a nod, “You saved Alex and I don’t know how to thank you for that,” she laughed briefly, “You really are a Winchester.”  
  
Dean placed a hand gently on her shoulder, looking down proudly at Morgan, “Sure is,” leaving his hand on her shoulder, Dean looked at Jody, “How’s Alex?”  
  
“She’s ok, considering,” Jody nodded, “They said she’ll be out later today.”  
  
“How ‘bout Claire?” Dean asked and Jody immediately put her hands up and shook her head.  
  
“I’m done, Dean,” she pleaded, “I’m sorry, but she’s twenty-years-old and I’m not her parent, if she doesn’t want to stay I’m tired of forcing her and I’ve long since forgotten why I even have!”  
  
Morgan glanced at Dean as he removed his hand from her shoulder and crossed his arms, looking like he was about to start one of his stern lectures. Suddenly, he sighed, shaking his head and threw his arms up in defeat.  
  
“I can’t blame ya,” he agreed bitterly, “Where’s she now?”  
  
“With Castiel,” Jody responded, “he seems to think he can get through to her. Dean, I’m really sorry its just-”  
  
“Jody, I can’t blame you,” Dean held up a hand to interrupt her, “It’s not your job, we appreciate what you’ve done for her even if Claire doesn’t.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Jody glanced down with a disheartened tone.  
  
He just nodded and glanced at Morgan quickly before saying to Jody, “We’ll figure it out, Jody, it’s not on you anymore.”  
  
Jody looked slightly chided and nodded at him, before silently exiting the room without another word.  
  
“What’s up with Jody?” Sam asked, walking back in the room holding his coat together in front of him.  
  
“Claire,” Dean shook his head in clear indication he did not want to discuss it right then.  
  
“Ok, kid,” Sam approached Morgan’s bed and looked sneakily around him before opening his jacket, dumping packages of cookies and chips on her right side, “Shh.”  
  
Morgan giggled, quickly picking through the crinkling bags and ripping open a package of chocolate chip cookies, “Thanks, Sam, I’m starving!”  
  
“And that’s the best decision?” Dean scoffed, giving his brother and sister a dissatisfied eyebrow raise.  
  
Noticing Dean was only feigning his disappointment, Morgan stared at him with an audacious smile and popped an entire cookie into her mouth. Slowly chewing with a satisfying grin and her eyes locked with Dean’s, who could no longer hold his straight face and broke into a laughing smile.  
  
“Gimme one,” he dug his thick fingers into her bag of cookies and the three of them laughed for a moment together.  
  
A little while later, after the three Winchesters had devoured the last crumb of junk food, a young nurse came in with a clipboard of paperwork, both Sam and Dean stood as she entered.  
  
“Which of you is,” she peeked at the clipboard, “Morgan’s legal guardian?”  
  
“I am,” Dean stepped forward immediately and Morgan felt that warm bubble rise in her chest again.  
  
“I just need you to sign a few things,” she handed Dean the clipboard and dug a prescription bottle from her scrubs pocket, “Make sure these get taken as directed for pain management and she needs to stay off her leg as much as possible for at least a week or two.”  
  
Dean pocketed the bottle of pills and started signing and flipping pages on the clipboard, “Yes, ma’am, that’s the plan.”  
  
“Ok, Nolans,” she smiled at Dean more than the rest of them, “an orderly will be in with a chair in a few minutes and you’re good to go.”  
  
“Nolan?” Morgan giggled quietly after the nurse had left the room.  
  
“Y’know what, kid,” Dean eyed her with a teasingly stern glare, “next time, you can choose the fake name for insurance.”  
  
Morgan giggled so hard her knee started to ache from the shaking and she tenderly placed a hand over the blanket on the heavily bandaged joint. Feeling the blankets skim against the skin that wasn’t wrapped tightly, she suddenly felt very vulnerable and blushed a deep red. Under the thin hospital gown, she had nothing but a t-shirt and underwear covering her and they were about to leave. Whipping her head around, Morgan scanned the room for her tattered jeans.  
  
“What’s up?” Sam asked, noticing the change in her demeanor.  
  
She gave him a sideways glance and waved him to come closer, Sam obliged and leaned in for her to whisper, “I don’t have pants on.”  
  
Sam chuckled and stood up, facing Dean who looked quizzically from one to the other, “Girl needs pants.”  
  
An amused look of understanding took over Dean’s face as he nodded and grabbed a bag off the floor from next to the bed, “After landing in your own puke, your jeans were considered a biohazard and I sent Sammy here to get y’some stuff, seein’ as he’s the fashion guru,” he pulled a brand new pair of sweatpants from the very full bag, tore the tag off and tossed the soft cotton pants on her bed, “these’ll go over that wrap on your knee.”  
  
Morgan stared at the full bag Dean was peering into, not even hearing the things he was listing off that were inside, “Is that for me?”  
  
Dean paused and inclined his head at her and chuckled, “I don’t think Sam or I are gonna fit’in any of it.”  
  
Morgan felt her throat tighten again and smiled graciously at him and Sam with wet eyes, they nodded back and the thank you was understood.  
  
Dean adamantly refused to leave her alone and insisted one of the nurses help her with the sweatpants, to Morgan’s great embarrassment. Sam and Dean returned from the hallway when the nurse left to a slightly pouty teenager, sitting straight legged on the bed with her arms crossed. Dean smiled, amused at her frustration towards his overprotectiveness, she turned away in a small huff. A burly man with tattoos rolled a wheelchair into the room a few minutes later and Morgan slowly tried to swing her legs off the bed, wincing with the sharp pain in her left knee as it moved.  
  
“Hey!” Both her brothers yelled in outrage and she shot them an incredulous look.  
  
“I got it,” she insisted and tried to push off the bed again, only to find a hand on each shoulder holding her down.  
  
“You’ve gotta be off that leg for two weeks,” Dean reproached her, “you gonna start the independent crap already?” she said nothing but didn’t change the glower she was giving him, “Wanna see where that’ll getcha?”  
  
At his vague threat, Morgan lowered her eyes in defeat and tossed her hands up, letting them fall on the bed at her sides, “What’re you gonna freakin’ carry me everywhere?”  
  
“Yup,” Sam and Dean nodded, smiling at each other, Morgan even heard the orderly snicker as he pushed the chair closer and shot him an angry glare.  
  
“Seriously,” Morgan whined at them and crossed her arms, “my right leg is fine, I can just hop there,” pointing at the wheelchair, her groaning trailed into another pout as her brothers shook their heads, both had way more amusement on their faces than she appreciated.  
  
“Come on, sweetheart,” the orderly patted the chair with a tattooed hand, but his smirk quickly faded as he was met with three pairs of glaring Winchester eyes.  
  
“Do I look like I need your help?” Dean asked the man coldly and the bearded orderly took a respectful step back, leaving the wheelchair next to Dean, who shifted his gaze to Morgan, “C’mere.”  
  
She didn’t argue further and let Dean gingerly lift her in a cradle hold, her left leg dangling comfortably as he easily set her in the wheelchair. Morgan caught him shoot the orderly a similarly dirty look to the one she had and smirked when Dean grabbed the handles from the man and pushed her chair out of the room himself. Sam followed them with the bag full of new clothes and the orderly completed their parade, looking lost without a chair to push.  
  
The backseat of the Impala was already set up for Morgan to lean against her pillow on the driver’s side door with her legs up on the leather, the cooler in perfect reach behind Dean’s seat with Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire sitting on top. She let them help her in without complaint, but couldn’t help squeezing her eyes closed, mortified, while people walked passed as she was picked up from the chair again. Sam went to put the bag of clothes on the floor behind his seat, but Morgan motioned excitedly for him to hand to her.  
  
“Thanks,” she smiled, eagerly taking it from him.  
  
Morgan tried to gently shuffle through the articles of clothing, but the bag was so stuffed there was no getting past the first layer of tightly packed fabric. She took out a black t-shirt, shaking it out and holding it by the shoulders in front of her, a smile crept across her face as she gave the back of Dean’s head a sideways glance. Morgan wasn’t sure if he’d sought out a One-X shirt or if had just coincidently been there, but she held it close, smelling the freshness of a brand-new shirt and let it rest in her lap before pulling another piece of clothing from the bag. The bag was still more than half stuffed after she’d extracted two more shirts and a pair of jeans without holes or dirt. Morgan had never had clothes with tags on them and kept caressing her finger tips over the few things in her lap with a strange sensation of excitement and guilt. She didn’t deserve all of this, she didn’t deserve any of it and slowly started putting the jeans and shirts away.  
  
“We’re gonna stay in town for the night,” Dean said, glancing in the rearview mirror even though she wasn’t in his sight, “You can dump that whole bag on the bed and we can laugh at how terrible Sam’s fashion sense is.”  
  
Morgan smirked to herself sadly and didn’t reply.  
  
“That bad, huh?” Sam turned and smiled at her, lifting a small bit of t-shirt from the bag in her lap.  
  
Morgan shook her head adamantly, “It’s great, really, it’s just-,” she shifted her eyes to the bag, “it’s a lot, thank you, thank you both, it’s just, way more than I’ve ever had.”  
  
“It’s nothin’,” Sam smiled and with a slight raise in his eyebrows, “wait till you see what I gotcha in the trunk.”  
  
Dean and Morgan both shot Sam questioning looks, but he laughed to himself and didn’t continue. Shortly after, Dean pulled the Impala into a motel parking lot and the younger two stayed in the car while he went in to get them a room. Morgan had enjoyed the times her and her Mother had stayed at motels, there had always been other kids around and she’d occasionally stolen opportunities to play with them when her Mother was gone. Dean drove the Impala a building away from the office and handed Sam the key for the room before opening the rear driver’s door, cradled Morgan easily and carrying her into the dank room.  
  
Sam started unloading the car as Dean settled Morgan on one of the two large beds. On his second trip, Sam tossed her duffel and new wardrobe next to her, but held onto a hanger from where a black bag dangled, his face showing his eagerness to reveal the surprise.  
  
“Alright,” Dean shook his head with a smile, “what’s that?”  
  
“I couldn’t resist,” Sam smiled and tore the black bag from the hanger, a steely blue canvas jacket identical to the one Dean was wearing hung from Sam’s hand and looked perfect sized for Morgan.  
  
Dean laughed out loud and took the jacket from his brother, examining it against his own, “Awesome, Sam!”  
  
“Now you’re really his mini me,” Sam smiled at Morgan who tried to return it, but the grimace on her face wasn’t missed by either of them, “What’s up?”  
  
“It’s just so much,” she implored, “I really don’t deserve it.”  
  
Sam and Dean looked at each other with sad expressions before they both sat on the bed with her and Dean spoke, “That’s not true at all, and I’m sorry you feel like it is, but it’s not. I wanted you to be excited, maybe we went a little overboard, but I think bein’ our little sister you’re just gonna have to get used to that.”  
  
Morgan tried to smile, “I’m sorry I lied to you about Alex.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean nodded with a prying gaze, “about that. I heard a rumor that Alex tried to get you to go with her, but you wouldn’t because I told you to stay at Jody’s. S’that true?” Morgan nodded at him, feeling a bit of her guilt ease at his satisfied expression, “I’m really proud of you,” at these words Morgan smiled at Dean with wet eyes, “I understand why you didn’t mention she’d left when I called and I’m not gonna hold you accountable for her actions, she knows she screwed up, but you did what you were supposed to and I couldn’t be happier with you. Now, can you please start ripping through that bag?”  
  
With his encouraging smile, Morgan carefully pulled out the t-shirts she’d already examined and set them next to her, giving exceptional thanks to the Three Days Grace album tee, but before she could grab the jeans, Sam jokingly sighed and flipped the bag upside down, shaking the contents out over her and the bed. Morgan giggled as the clothes rained down, leaving a large pile of freshly tagged apparel, twice the size of her ragged wardrobe. Immediately, both brothers started pulling their personal favorite choices and Morgan’s attention was pulled between them, her inhibitions from their generosity fading as she saw almost recognizable excitement.  
  
Morgan was happily unsurprised to find several more rock band t-shirts in the mix, along with a few plain shirts and several pairs of jeans. At one point, Sam mentioned he almost grabbed a skirt and laughed at her squinty-eyed head shake, admitting he’d rightfully thought better of it. There was even packages of socks and underwear, though neither of them brought any attention to the essentials, Morgan was simply impressed Sam had not only made it through an entire junior’s department section, he’d even braved the confusing wall of underwear packages. Tears of gratification and joy slipped down her cheeks as she thanked them both and received two hugs and forehead kisses in return.  
  
A knock on the door made all three heads turn as Sam and Dean rose from the bed. Sam stood between Morgan and the door as Dean approached and peered through the peep hole before opening the door for Castiel and Claire. Both of them looked frustrated and exhausted, clearly they hadn’t had a chance to wash up from last night’s attack and still had stains of blood and dirt on their sleeves.  
  
“C’mon in,” Dean gestured for the angel and young woman to enter.  
  
Claire set her eyes immediately on Morgan, tossed her own duffel bag on the floor carelessly and plopped herself on the opposite bed, “So, you’re the witch?”  
  
“Claire,” Dean growled warningly.  
  
“What?” the blonde girl snapped at him, “She is isn’t she? The witch Winchester,” settling her eyes back on Morgan, Morgan smiled at her final words.  
  
“Sure am,” she retorted, fixing her eyes hard at Claire with a smirk, “Nice to see you with clothes on.”  
  
Morgan didn’t waiver her eyes watching the satisfying rise of color in Claire’s cheeks and heard Sam and Dean making choking sounds.  
  
“Dean,” Castiel interrupted the tension, “Can we speak for a moment? In private.”  
  
“Yea,” he nodded and Castiel walked out the door, looking at Sam before he followed, Dean rolled his eyes, “can’t imagine what this is about,” and after a quick scowl at Claire he shut the door.  
  
Sam was obviously uncomfortable having been left in the room with two young women who continued shooting each other dirty looks, but sighed, accepting he was stuck, and grabbed a beer from the green cooler.  
  
“Hey, I’ll take one’a those,” Claire smirked.  
  
“We’ve got soda and lemonade,” Sam smiled at her with a raised eyebrow, “pick your poison.”  
  
“I don’t wanna take Mickey Mouse Club here’s drinks,” Claire motioned to Morgan with a mean sneer.  
  
“Then you’re gonna be thirsty,” Sam grinned at her.  
  
Then he smiled at his sister and silently held out his beer, Claire made an incredulous face at him that immediately changed to shock as the cap hissed off the bottle and flew at her face, but turned just before smacking into her eye, dropping softly into the waste basket. Sam gave her an attempt at a scolding look, but couldn’t hide his amusement and sipped his beer a bit longer than usual.  
  
“Bitch,” Claire snapped.  
  
“Witch, actually,” Morgan smirked and blindly caught a can of pop flying towards her from the cooler, her eyes locked on Claire’s.  
  
“Y’know your brothers and I kill witches,” the blonde sneered.  
  
“I’m sure they have,” Morgan nodded towards Sam, who’d taken a step forward, but remained silent, “you, I seriously doubt it.”  
  
“Screw this,” Morgan felt satisfied seeing Claire throw her hands up and stalk angrily towards the door, only to be blocked by Sam, “Get outta my way, Sam, I’m an adult! I’m sick of tryin’ to convince you, your brother and especially Castiel that I can take care of myself, just let me go and leave me alone!”  
  
She got louder until she was screaming the last few words in Sam’s face and the motel door flew open behind him. Claire tried to push passed them and managed to elude Sam’s grasp, she was not, however, so lucky with Dean, who carried her back into the room with one arm and tossed her on the bed. Castiel closed the door, standing guard against it, as Dean characteristically crossed his arms, widened his stance and set his sternest glower on Claire.  
  
“What is goin’ on with you, Claire?” He began and immediately received an eyeroll in response.  
  
“I’m an adult, Dean! You can’t keep me here!” she beat her fists against the mattress in emphasis, her angry glare filled with tears.  
  
“You sure as hell aren’t actin’ like one right now,” Dean said calmly, “and I’ll keep you here as long as I have to. You’ve gotta figure out your next move now that you lost your chance at Jody’s and like it or not the people in this room actually give a damn about you and aren’t about to let you dive head first into the hunter world without a plan.”  
  
“I had a plan!” Claire implored angrily, still fighting the tears that had started streaming down her face.  
  
“That punk?” Dean scoffed, “That is not a plan, Claire, you don’t know him, not well enough to trust him with your life anyway. He made that pretty clear last night, didn’t he? If this is the road you want to take, we’re not gonna fight you on it, but if you think that any one of us is gonna let you run full speed ahead to your death unprepared, you’ve got another thing comin’.”  
  
Claire opened her mouth to retort, but didn’t speak, she stared at Dean for a moment before bursting into tears and burying her head in her hands. Dean looked at Castiel, and the angel stepped away from the door, taking a seat on the bed next to the crying young woman. Slightly awkwardly, he put an arm around her shoulders, but it was all Claire needed to turn her head to his chest and sob into the tan trench coat. Strangely, Castiel seemed to understand how to comfort her quickly and, for a moment, almost looked like a father calming his daughter’s cries. Morgan felt a stab of sadness for Claire, she understood what it was like to be alone, angry and scared. Focusing on the box of tissues across the room, that none of the men were reaching for, Morgan floated it inconspicuously on the bed next to Claire and caught a wink from Sam.  
  
“I-I know,” Claire spoke with a shaky voice as she calmed her cries into small sniffles, “I thought I knew him, at least I thought he was a hunter, but he’s just a bitch.”  
  
“In all fairness,” Dean smirked, “he’s pro’bly heard stories about us,” with a quick glance at the glares coming at him from all directions, Dean shook his head, returning to a serious glower, “Look, Claire, you’re not goin’ at this alone, at least not until we’ve seen you can hold your own, ok,” Claire shot him a livid glare, wiping her nose with a tissue, and he put his hands up defensively, “I will teach you, we will teach you, what you need to know before you take on this life you are so freakishly desperate to lead.”  
  
“Claire,” Castiel had sat back, but kept his arm around her thin, denim wrapped shoulders, “I know you’re angry, but I hope you understand you have an opportunity to learn from the best in the world. Many hunters would give anything for a chance to work with Sam and Dean,” Morgan was starting to feel a little unsure about the conversation, pretending to pick through her new clothes, but continued listening to Castiel, “When it seems you’re at the level of hunting independence we won’t stop you from going out on your own. I promise.”  
  
Morgan met Dean’s eyes with a concerned wide eyed look and he gave her a very tiny head nod with an expression that said they’d discuss this soon. At least, she and Sam briefly shared a panicky glance before stoically returning their attention to the conversation they had no part in.  
  
“W-wait,” Claire scooted back from Castiel and shifted her incredulous glare between Dean and the angel, “I’m finally free of Jody’s and now what, I’m gettin’ shoved in the back of that crappy car twenty-four seven?”  
  
“Woah,” Dean said in a very stern voice Morgan recognized, “first of all, don’t ever call my Baby crappy and b, we don’t live in the Impala.”  
  
“So, just one crappy motel room after another,” Claire scoffed, wiping her nose again, “no, thanks.”  
  
“You’d be surprised, kid,” Dean retorted, Morgan felt a rush of jealous anger hearing him call her ‘kid’ and realizing the full scale of what was happening, “and right now, you don’t have a choice.”  
  
“I’m twenty-years-old Dean!” she screamed so loud Sam and Morgan leaned back a bit, but Dean and Castiel remained unaffected.  
  
“Be, eighty-seven,” Dean shrugged, clearly nearing the end of his rope, “’till you prove you can hold your own, to me, suck it up buttercup and enjoy the free lessons, complete with a complimentary angel and witch.”  
  
“Can I practice on the witch?” Claire’s mean question was barely finished before she’d cowered to the head of the bed and Castiel stood, holding Dean back from a quick advance.  
  
Dean was shaking with rage, Castiel not wavering from his position between the angry man and terrified girl. Sam was alert, stepping forward, but it was only a moment before Dean laughed strangely, shook his head with a smirk and regained his composure.  
“Y’think I’m gonna hit’er Cas?” Dean scoffed meanly and Castiel released his grip with a little shame in his expression, “Naw, but if I scare’ya Claire, y’got another thing comin’ if you wanna be a real hunter.”  
  
Morgan saw Claire hang her head, but Dean blocked her view as he approached the bed she was on and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Y’ok if I move you?”  
  
She nodded eagerly, wanting nothing more at that moment than to leave the room and without any more prompting Dean scooped her into his arms carefully, nodding at Sam to open the door.  
  
“Where are you going?” Castiel asked, Claire slowly regaining herself behind him peered apologetically at the departing pair.  
  
“I’m takin’ my little sister out for ice cream or somethin’,” Dean sneered angrily in the direction of Claire while answering Castiel, “Sammy, y’commin?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam nodded, setting his beer on the dresser and hastened to follow his brother’s lead, “right behind’ja.”  
  
“Claire,” Dean turned his head on their exit, Morgan couldn’t help glancing the blonde’s chastised expression as he spoke, “we’ll be back, if your still here, I’m gonna take it that you’re ready to fall in line with the entire Winchester company, if you’re not, then I wish you the best of luck on the short time you’ve got left to live.”  
  
“Dean, wait,” Castiel called as they turned to leave and, despite his obvious anger, Dean stopped as he approached them, “let me,” and at these words Morgan saw the angel’s hand touch her injured knee and felt an immense pressure that was not painful or pleasant, hearing a loud yell, the feeling vanished as quick as it’d come and she snapped her lips together realizing the yelling was coming from her.  
  
Staring first at Dean with a surprised smirk, Morgan nudged out of his arms and hopped onto both functioning legs, smiling widely at Castiel, “Hey, thanks, Cas, I gotta learn how’da do that.”  
  
“We don’t have the same kind of magic,” he inclined his head at her, his eyebrows close in confusion, and Morgan just shook her head with amused pleasure at him.  
  
“Thank you,” she said again without further elaboration and he nodded curtly, turning to her brothers with a little bounce in her newly healed step and followed Dean’s gesture out the door.  
  
The beautiful black sedan waited right outside the motel door and, in apology of the slur the Impala hadn’t heard, Morgan ran a gentle finger over the curve of the rear fender before opening the back door and noticed Dean did the same on the front. She slid into the middle of the backseat and rolled up the left leg of her sweatpants to remove the bandages wrapped around her knee. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy, there seemed to be no end to the wrap and her tugging at random areas did nothing, even to loosen its hold. Morgan heard Sam and Dean chuckling at her and smirked at them in the rearview mirror.  
  
“Sorry, kid,” Dean accelerated powerfully unto the road, “I needed to get outta there, I’ll cut that off when we stop.”  
  
“We are getting’ ice cream, right?” Morgan held onto the middle of the front seat to avoid flying behind Sam on the hard turn out of the parking lot.  
  
“Oh, yeah,” Dean nodded in the rearview mirror, “and maybe a bar,” Sam gave Dean a disapproving head shake, “Yeah, fine, mom.”  
  
Morgan could feel Dean’s frustration in his heavy-footed acceleration, and the Impala seemed to thrive on the aggression. They tore down an open road away from town, neither Sam or Morgan asked where he was going as Dean cranked Hells Bells and pushed the Impala harder, the fifty-year-old car growled loudly at the challenge. After a mile or two, Dean spun the Impala around and headed back towards the town with slightly less hostility on the throttle.  
  
“Better?” Sam scoffed, turning down the radio and shaking his head with amusement.  
  
“Much,” Dean nodded, glancing in the rearview mirror with raised eyebrows, “Y’ok back there?”  
  
“That was awesome,” Morgan giggled, “How fast did we go?”  
  
Dean chuckled, and Sam attempted one more disapproving head shake before turning in the passenger seat, “Too fast,” Morgan and Dean expelled identical scoffs and Sam threw his head back laughing.  
  
Dean pulled the rumbling black sedan into a small parking lot with a blue shack in the center, a peeling sign read Cream King and a happy ice cream cone sat between the words wearing a gold crown. Morgan wasn’t sure why Sam and Dean shared a quiet snicker before pushing the front doors open, but she shrugged and stiffly followed them to the menu board as her knee was still tightly wrapped. A huge list of flavors sat next to pictures of shakes, bowls and cone sizes, considering her limited experience with treats, Morgan wasn’t surprised that most of the options were unfamiliar.  
  
“Whatcha thinkin’?” Dean asked, pulling his wallet from his back pocket.  
  
Morgan shrugged at him with an overwhelmed expression, “That chocolate shake was really good.”  
  
“Gotta expand your horizons, kid,” Dean smiled down at her, “D’ya like peanut butter?”  
  
“On a sandwich,” she giggled.  
  
“Two peanut butters, large,” Dean told the girl waiting behind the window and turned to his brother, “Rocky road, Sammy?”  
  
“Jus’ like my life,” Sam smirked, but Dean ignored him, putting in the final order.  
  
“C’mere,” Dean gestured Morgan back to the Impala after paying and gently patted the hood in invitation for her to climb up, which she did with an unsure glance and he flicked his five-inch pocket knife out, “let’s see that leg.”  
  
Morgan rolled her left pant leg up to her skinny thigh and instinctually winced as Dean expertly sliced through the bandage on her knee. Surprised when she felt nothing but relief from the tightly wrapped constraint releasing her joint and gave Dean an impressed nod. Sam approached, managing to carry two large ice cream cones in one hand, already devouring his in the few feet between the shack and the car. He held out his left hand to them both before hopping up on the hood next to Morgan, giving her a quick nod and turning with narrowed eyes on their older brother.  
  
“So,” Sam began, “wanna involved the rest of the Winchester company in your plans with Claire?”  
  
Morgan was relieved to hear Sam ask the question that had been screaming in her head since the motel room and turned to Dean with the same unamused expression as Sam.  
  
Dean shifted his eyes between both siblings, hung his head for a moment before sighing and looking at them both as he spoke, “Cas asked if we’d train her, she’s hell bent on being a hunter and let’s face it with daddy issues that reach to the freakin’ moon and back she’s gonna trust the wrong people, as she just proved, and on her own she’s got about as much chance of survivin’ out there as a mouse in a snake cage,” focusing his gaze on Morgan, “but I’m not gonna tolerate anybody givin’ my family crap, so if she’s gonna be like that, plan ain’t happenin’,” Morgan nodded at him, still feeling resentful, “Claire is not a bad person, Morgan, she’s also had a pretty hard time in life, I really hope she can stop tryin’ to be someone she’s not and show you that, but understand,” he leaned in a little, holding eye contact with her matching set of emerald greens, “my top priority, our top priority, is this family.”  
  
Morgan felt a bubble of warmth overtake the resentment still lingering, against everything she’d ever been taught or shown, she trusted Sam and Dean unconditionally, as terrifying as that realization was for her, she knew it was true. Feeling Sam’s hand touched hers, Morgan noticed him lifting her ice cream cone in front of her face and giggled at his silly expression as he took a large bite of his own. Just before the drips reached her fingers, she licked around the top of the cone and was astounded at the flavor hitting her tongue. First, she stared in disbelief at the stacked scoops, then at Dean before diving whole hog into the top.  
  
“Dude,” she sighed with delight at Dean, “peanut butter ice cream.”  
  
“No joke,” he chuckled and took a huge chunk of his own as the familiar guitar riff blared from his pocket.  
  
Digging his phone out, he checked the screen and rolled his eyes before swiping the screen, “Yeah? Is she? Ok, but Cas, she better understand this is a favor to you and if she starts any, and I mean the tiniest bit of crap, she’s out. Ok. Yeah, we’ll be back soon,” a moment later he shoved the phone back in his pocket without comment on the conversation.  
  
“Claire better?” Sam asked snidely.  
  
“Guess so,” Dean nodded, but didn’t elaborate.  
  
The Winchesters finished their ice cream and piled back into the Impala a little while later, Dean seemed to be in no rush to get back to the motel. The sun was starting to set when they pulled back in front of the room. Claire was sitting on the same bed, flipping through channels on the TV, and Castiel sat at a small table by the window, seemingly doing nothing, when they walked through the door. Morgan purposefully avoided Clarie’s eyes and beelined for the bed covered in her new wardrobe, grabbing a fresh pair of jeans, black t-shirt and discreetly tucking a package of underwear between them she quickly closed herself in the bathroom.  
  
Washing the hospital and parking lot off her felt more cleansing than just rinsing her skin of grime and, silently, Morgan let a few tears slip down her cheeks, disguised by the water and hidden from the small crowd beyond the bathroom door. She did not want Claire to go with them, she did not want to share her brothers and felt guilty knowing all they were trying to do was help the mean blonde to survive in a world she was willingly choosing to join. Morgan would never have chosen this life if given a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there a new member of the team joining the ranks? 
> 
> LOVE to know what you think- this has been a joy to write and I hope a joy to read :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally! ... Alllllmost... well at least we finally hear Dean threaten her with a spanking in this chapter after a session of writing lines...

Finally, having dried her hair with the wall dryer and dressed proudly in her brand new outfit, Morgan smiled at herself in the mirror, determined to own her place in her family and not be intimidated by Claire. With a deep sigh, she pulled the bathroom door open, feeling the rush of cool air in the main room. Dean eyed her when the door opened and returned his gaze to Claire briefly before gesturing with his head towards his sister, Claire said nothing, but got up and approached Morgan, her stomach twisted as the blonde got closer.

"Thanks for the Kleenex, you're okay," she said nodding, "I'm sorry I was a bitch, I've had some crap lately and I took it out on you 'n I shouldn't've."

Morgan nodded at her in a mild outward acceptance, "Yeah, okay," she had no intention of befriending this girl and certainly she would never trust her, edging around the blonde to the bed for a pair of socks.

She ignored the next few minutes of their planning and explanations to Claire, folding her new clothes in neat stacks and packing all of them into her duffel as slowly as possible. At one point, Sam flipped the bedside lamps on as the room darkened while the sky outside became pitch black. Morgan stuffed her duffel bag next to Sam's and Dean's on the floor between the dresser and the bathroom, turning slowly back to the others having nothing else to distract herself, but glanced Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire on the nightstand.

"Morgan," Dean halted her sneaky approach towards the book and she turned towards him obediently, "we're gonna get some grub, put your boots on."

She gave him a curt nod and grabbed them from the corner, sitting on the bed to pull the old army boots over her new jeans. Claire and Castiel left the room before she'd finished lacing her second boot, Sam slumped next to her on the bed and Morgan glanced up to see Dean staring at her with an eyebrow raised, head tilt. She stared at him blankly, determined to not express her displeasure at the situation ahead, realizing Claire would be returning with them to the bunker and the only place that'd ever felt like home would now be invaded by a bitter blonde who made Morgan uneasy.

"What?" she asked to break the awkward few moments of silence.

"Where's your head at?" Dean asked, ignoring Sam's glare.

"I'm fine," she shrugged, narrowing her eyes as he narrowed his in disbelief at her.

"I'm not," Sam offered with a disheartened shrug before glaring at Dean again.

"What'da want me t'do Sammy?" Dean implored with frustration, "Cas asked a favor, how'd'ya want me to refuse Cas after everything he's done for us?"

Sam shrugged again without reply, Morgan shifted her gaze to the worn toes of her black boots.

"It's very temporary," Dean assured both siblings, neither of which was looking at him, "C'mon guys, I just don't see another option 'n if you do, please, I'm all ears."

Sam and Morgan glanced at each other, he was starting to look understanding and Morgan knew there was no hope for them to go home alone.

"I want to take a lot of precautions," Sam stated.

"All the precautions," Dean nodded in eager agreement.

"I know Claire," Sam looked at Morgan now, "and this isn't normally her, but we're not taking chances this is just a single outburst," setting his eyes on this brother now, "I don't like it, but I'll give her one chance to prove herself."

Dean nodded and looked at Morgan, "How'bout you, kid?"

She shrugged and tried to meet his eyes, "I dunno, you guys know'er not me."

"And she hasn't exactly made the best first impression," Sam added.

"No kidding," Dean rolled his eyes, "One chance, that's all she's gettin', I promise."

Morgan shrugged again with a small nod, trying to hide the sadness overwhelming her, "Yeah, okay."

"Yeah, okay, shut up and leave me alone, yeah okay, or you're willin' to give her a shot, yeah okay?" Dean asked and Morgan again shifted her eyes away from his.

"Does it matter?" she mumbled and felt Sam's arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "it really does. Morgan, I'm only okay with this if you are, you're the deciding vote here. Just understand Claire doesn't have another option besides being alone and with her skill level currently, she's not gonna survive long," Morgan looked away from Sam guiltily, "I'm not a fan of this plan either, but if you will, I'll give her one chance."

Morgan shifted surprised eyes between them as it dawned on her that her opinion was not only being taken into consideration, but the tie breaking vote. Claire made her uncomfortable, but she did feel bad for her despite the mean exterior the blonde had impressed upon her, understanding the motive to sometimes hide true feelings behind a wall of anger. Slowly she nodded at Sam first, feeling him squeeze her shoulder with a smile, then turned to Dean who grinned with relief.

"We good?" Dean asked and she nodded at him, "Good, I'm starvin'. Cas texted me, they already got a table and he keeps sending me emojis of food with question marks."

Morgan slipped on her new blue canvas jacket, a perfect fit, and shoved her hands in the pockets, feeling something cold and hard against her right fingers and pulled out the seventeen-year-old witch killing bullet from John to her Mother. Sam smiled and gave her a nod when she looked up at him, then slipped it back in her pocket with a small grin in return. Dean threw on his jacket and chuckled when he turned to see her, from their black boots to their green eyes, the oldest and youngest were identical. After gesturing her out the door, Dean put his arm around Morgan and pulled her into a side hug while Sam locked the room.

"You're a good kid," he smiled and kissed the top of her head, "thank you for understanding, or tryin' to, I 'ppreciate it."

She nodded at him in response and climbed into the backseat after he opened the rear driver's door for her, sliding into her spot in the middle. While Sam and Dean landed in their usual places in the front seat, Morgan wondered what the drive home would be like having to share the back and felt another pang of resentment, but tried to swallow it, she'd promised to give Claire a chance. Although secretly, Morgan planned to protect her bedroom with a fire line spell as soon as they returned to the bunker.

000000

The diner they entered was reminiscent of the others Morgan had been in recently, cracking vinyl seats, worn stools and the inviting smell of cheap, delicious food. Castiel waved at them from a table in the corner, clearly happy to see their arrival, Claire glanced up, but quickly returned her gaze to her cell phone. Dean pulled out a chair for Morgan before sitting next to Castiel and Sam took the chair between her and Claire. The waitress was at their table before Sam had even sat down.

"S'this it?" she asked with a hint of impatience.

"Yes, this is it," Castiel nodded.

Everyone placed their orders and Castiel insisted he was fine with just coffee, that he wasn't drinking anyway. It seemed they couldn't have gone quick enough to satisfy the waitress, who while staring at her notepad, started walking backwards to the kitchen barely after they'd finished.

"So," Dean began and set his eyes on Claire, "We're headin' out first thing in the mornin'. Do you need to get anything out of Jody's?" Claire shook her head, a much milder version of the young woman Morgan had met earlier.

"You are taking her with you then?" Castiel asked in blunt confirmation, Morgan saw Claire's head dip again and felt a stab of sadness.

"Everyone's in agreement," Dean nodded, patting Morgan's shoulder and looking again at Claire, "S'long as you're ready to play by our rules," she nodded meekly at him, her eyes still downcast, "Good, you've got one shot."

They ate in awkward silence when their food finally arrived, Morgan and Claire continued to sneak unsure glances at each other that none of the men seemed to notice. Castiel had to meet Crowley and Rowena about something he did not go into detail in, but gave Dean a knowing glance as he departed in his own giant beige sedan, leaving Claire with the Winchesters next to the black Impala in the diner parking lot.

The drive to the motel was even more awkward than dinner had been, now that Morgan and Claire had to sit next to each other in the back. As expected, Morgan was extremely displeased to share her space, but kept her expression as neutral as possible. Thankfully, the motel wasn't far and both girls jumped out of the Impala nearly as soon as Dean threw the shifter in park. Sam unlocked the motel door and Morgan followed him immediately over the threshold, beelined for the book, plopping onto the bed and cracking it open to the M&M's wrapper.

"Hey," she recognized Dean's growl and turned to see him pointing at her, "get ready for bed before you get into that."

Morgan closed the book, rolled off the bed and grabbed the sweatpants from her duffel bag, slipping into the bathroom to change. It didn't take long, she folded her clothes back into her bag and set her boots by the end of the bed before crawling on top of the blankets again. Claire left for the bathroom and Sam and Dean removed their button downs and dirty jeans as Morgan immersed herself back in the book. She saw Dean take a pillow off her bed and looked up at him, wearing a clean white t-shirt and sweatpants, as he gathered extra bedding from around the room.

"Where're you sleepin'?" Morgan inclined her head at him.

"Right here by the door," he gestured to the floor next to her bed.

"You don't-," she started the sentence timidly, but gesturing her own tiny frame against the vast mattress, "This bed is huge, I'm not even gonna use this much of it, let me sleep on the floor, you've been sleepin' on the floor all week."

He inclined his head at her and then assessed the massive space she was laying in the middle of, occupying less than a quarter of the available pillow top, "Yeah, okay, scoot over," he smiled, "Sam can be the only one on the floor for once. Unless sharin' a bed with your big brother is weird," he looked sideways at her, but grinned again when she shook her head and scooted all the way to one side of the giant bed.

Morgan had conveniently just finished a chapter when Dean announced it was lights out. Sam was set up on the floor where Dean had planned to be, Claire was pretending to already be asleep on the other bed with her back to them and Morgan felt Dean's weight sink into the other side of the mattress, pulling her towards him a little in the dip he created. She tried to roll back to not disturb him, but he squeezed an arm around her before letting her return to the other side.

"Good night, Brat," he whispered.

"Good night, Jerk," she responded in the same hushed tone and fell asleep with a smile.

0000000000000000000000000000000000

Birds chirping and sunlight streaming through the breaks in the motel curtains woke Morgan. Rolling over she saw the other side of the bed was empty, but the blankets had been thrown back up over her after Dean's exit. Sam's back was turned to her as he leaned over his duffel bag on the dresser, the door opened, letting light pour in as Dean entered the room.

"Mornin'," he nodded, "car's nearly packed up. Wanna find some grub on the road?"

"Yeah," Morgan nodded, throwing the blankets off and getting out of bed.

The bathroom door cracked open and Claire walked out, fully dressed, but her puffy eyes betrayed her exhaustion and Morgan wondered if she'd slept at all last night. Grabbing her own clothes and exiting to the bathroom, she attempted a small grin at Claire and was surprised when the blonde returned it with what looked like a very small, genuine smile. Once everyone was dressed and ready, they piled into the Impala and Dean accelerated away from Sioux Falls.

Claire played on her cell phone while Morgan continued to devour the fourth installment of Harry Potter, finally reaching the reincarnation of Lord Voldemort. She closed the book for a moment, feeling an irrational fear for Harry, she was nervous to continue and decided to stare out the window instead.

"You can't be done with that already," Sam turned a little, having heard the soft thud of over eight-hundred pages closing.

"No," she shook her head, looking at the book in her lap, "just takin' a break."

"Where'ya at?"

"Graveyard."

"Oh," Sam nodded knowingly, "Yeah, I had to take a breather then too."

Morgan smiled hearing Sam admit he'd had trouble getting through the same chapter, but a loud, unexpected growl from her stomach changed her smile to surprise.

"Me too," Dean nodded, "I saw some signs for food comin' up on the next exit."

Dean was clearly in a hurry to get back to the bunker and swung through a drive-thru, with several warnings about eating neatly in his car. After handing back a bag and the third reminder, Claire and Morgan shared an eye roll, quickly realizing this, they looked away briefly before giving each other identical sideways glances and small smiles of solidarity in that moment.

Feeling better having eaten, and losing interest in the flat Midwestern scenery, Morgan returned to the graveyard battle in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire with slight trepidation, but reminded herself Sam had shown her seven books in the series, so logically, Harry had to survive the fight. She felt Claire peer over a few times and finally looked over to meet the girl's eyes.

"Are those good?" Claire asked, out of the corner of her eye, Morgan saw Sam and Dean lean their heads slightly back, listening to the backseat.

"I like 'em," Morgan shrugged.

"I've never read 'em," Claire offered, "but the movies were good."

"I've only seen the first movie," Morgan responded, closing the book on her finger, Dean turned the radio down a very subtle notch, "it was good, but the book's better."

"I'm sure," Claire agreed, "they always are, I just never got into those."

"I just heard about 'em," Morgan admitted.

"Seriously?" Claire scoffed in true disbelief, "You're a witch, though."

Morgan shrugged and looked away as she spoke, "Yeah, I've kinda lived under a rock."

"What'dya mean?" Claire inclined her head and Morgan glanced at a kind face she wasn't expecting from the previously mean blonde.

"My Mother didn't let me do much," Morgan said simply, "She taught me 'n wasn't big on popular American, well anything," she scoffed to herself, thinking of the times she'd snuck an old television show or stolen a rock CD in desperation to join the world outside her Mother's control.

"She taught you magic?" Claire asked eagerly.

Giving Claire a secretive smile, Morgan knew a simple yes wouldn't suffice and felt like showing off a little anyway. Glancing quickly at her brothers, who'd returned to their own quiet conversation, she cupped her hands between herself and Claire, both girls staring into the bowl her palms created. Claire gave a small gasp as a small purple flame grew in the center, looping around the circle of Morgan's hands, it began to shimmy into the shape of a young woman and Morgan slowly flattened her hand, letting the tiny fire girl dance across her fingers.

"Hey, what're you doin'?" Dean's low growl startled Morgan into snapping her hands together, the little dancer disappearing in a small puff of purple smoke escaping between her fingers.

"Do that again," Sam turned around in the front seat, his eyes narrowed in intrigue.

Morgan looked at Sam, then met Dean's eyes in the rearview mirror, at his curt nod of approval she cupped her hands again and in a moment, the tiny girl of fire was spinning across her palms. Separating her hands a little, she made her leap small distances from one fingertip to the next, finally spinning her at the end of her thumb until she was going so fast the little dancer slowly evaporated into purple smoke.

"That was incredible," Sam's eyes were wide and still staring at Morgan's hands.

"Yeah, just, holy crap," Claire agreed with a similar expression.

"That's nothing," Morgan giggled a little, "I used to do that for hours when I was- uh- bored," relieved she'd stopped herself from saying 'locked up'.

"No," Claire shook her head with a determined gaze on Morgan, "that's frickin' cool. I bet you can do a lot of other stuff too, huh?"

"Claire," Sam sighed as Dean warned.

"Yeah," Morgan nodded at her, ignoring her brothers, with a smile inviting Claire to do the same, "I can make stuff fly, 'n well obviously, you know I can scry," both girls blushed a little.

"Yeah," Claire, cringed at her, "sorry about that."

"S'ok," Morgan nodded, happy to move on from the topic, "I'm pretty successful with most potions, at least the ones I've tried've turned out well," when she was always the test subject, her motivation was high to get it right the first time, "I can slow, stop and briefly reverse time, like really briefly I'm not very good at it-"

"I beg to differ," Dean raised his hand with a smile in the rearview mirror.

Morgan smiled back at him before turning again to Claire, "Basic attack spells y'know, I haven't really figured out mind control on humans, but I can control animals," Claire looked shocked, Sam however cleared his throat with a near choking sound.

"You can control animals?" Sam turned again in the front seat, having just resettled himself forward a few moments before.

"Sure," Morgan shrugged obviously at him, "I can communicate with them too."

"Like all the time?" Dean asked suddenly, as if the thought was exhausting.

"No," Morgan scoffed, "it's a just a spell."

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "but then y'gotta wait for it to wear off, 'n the taste'a that crap takes days to wash out."

Morgan giggled, "I've no idea what you're talkin' about, I just turn it on 'n off y'know like everything else. Whatever you did sounds terrible though."

"Coronel was okay," Dean shrugged.

"I thought witches were old though," Claire stated quizzically, "You're younger than me."

"She's special," Sam nodded with a wink at Morgan to say that was plenty explanation and she smiled at him in agreeance, the older blonde girl shrugged in acceptance of this vague reply.

The rest of the trip to the bunker wasn't bad, surprisingly to Morgan, in fact, it was actually sort of fun. She'd never really gotten to talk to another girl close to her age so openly and for so long, while Claire was four years older, the difference didn't seem so great sitting equally in the backseat telling each other lighthearted stories of their pasts. Morgan mostly listened.

At one point, Claire showed Morgan some of the games and applications on her smart phone, a device the young witch had obviously seen, despite her residency under a rock, countless times. And while she used to be intrigued at them, her curiosity had been curbed after having the audacity to say something out loud about it within earshot of her Mother. The twist in her stomach evaporated quickly remembering her Mother was dead, instinctual guilt at her relief caused a fresh twinge of rapidly fading discomfort as Claire and she took turns watching their faces get strangely distorted by camera filters, laughing madly at the results. She showed Morgan one they had to use together, mimicking how the blonde leaned into the middle and looking in the camera, a moment later they were both laughing loudly but from the other's head. Moran knew she saw Sam and Dean smile at each other in the front seat.

00000000000000000000000

"Hey, Morgan, wake up, we're home," a large hand gently shook her awake and Morgan opened her eyes to see Sam turned to her from the front seat, the Impala parked perfectly centered in the bright garage.

Sam got out and opened her door, now that she wasn't leaning against it on her pillow, Morgan clutched it sleepily and grabbed her book as she slid out of the backseat, blinking under the old lamps lining the garage ceiling. Sam slung his duffel bag over one shoulder and slammed the trunk closed.

"Where's mine?" Morgan asked through a stifled yawn.

"Dean grabbed it," Sam gestured her out of the garage, into the familiar clean tiled hallways of the bunker, "he's showin' Claire a room."

She followed Sam passed the library, into the corridor that lead to the kitchen and their rooms, and Dean walked out of her bedroom towards his own across the hall with his heavy duffel bag in hand.

"I'm gonna grab a shower," Dean announced, tossing his bag with one hand onto his bed from the doorway, "Anybody else hungry?" Sam and Morgan both nodded, "We're down to frozen pizzas 'n tv dinners," they both shrugged with exhaustion that that was fine.

Morgan shut the door of her bedroom and breathed a sigh of relief at being alone for the first time since Alex left Jody's house. It seemed like forever ago she'd been here and she relished the feeling of being back in her own space. Her duffel sat on the dresser, Morgan felt a surge of happiness as she unpacked her brand-new clothes into her dresser, with so many, she organized a drawer for pants, two for shirts and one for socks and underwear, stepping back to smile at the neat stacks of her brothers' generosity. Closing the drawers slowly, Morgan noticed the heap of spell books at the other end of the long, short dresser and remembered her silent precautionary plan.

Skimming through her Mother's most worn, leather-bound compilation of magic, handwritten by her, each incantation, spell and potion was picked for its importance, its power and its rarity. This was not the book she was looking for, however, as she reached the end and didn't find the sketching she had in her head that accompanied the unknown words below. Picking up another of her Mother's old books, this one was ancient and printed on an old press hundreds of years before, one of her Mother's first spell books. On the first few pages of the section listed 'Suscipiet' she found the protection spell she was searching for 'Tueri Igni', the line of fire, illustrated with several small flames under the title.

Choosing a part of her room between the end of the bed and door where no furniture obstructed a perfect line from one wall to the other and spread her thin fingers, pacing the line as she whispered the incantation three times, "Ignis linea protégé, et ignis hostes linea conserva, custodies me in linea ignis."

As she spoke, a transparent light followed across the floor and travelled up to the ceiling, creating a wall that as soon as it completed itself, vanished. Morgan could feel the power as she stuck a hand over the line, smiling at her first successful attempt at a spell she'd watched her Mother perform many times. This was one of the most effective protections her Mother had used in emergencies or temporary situations, but because of the type of magic it was, Morgan had had to touch her Mother's skin when she performed it. Something her Mother had always reminded her was a disgusting necessity so the fire line wouldn't work against the little girl. Morgan's opinion towards Claire had improved on the ride home, but years of learned distrust taught her it was better to be safe than sorry, she had no intention in being caught vulnerable if Claire was hiding animosity.

"Morgan!" Dean called from outside her door, "Pizza's almost done, c'mon 'n eat!"

"Comin'!" she called back, hopped over the line, feeling a familiar warmth briefly absorb her body, and shut her door on the way out.

Sam and Claire were sitting at the kitchen table together, talking animatedly and pointing at his laptop, Dean was pulling two hot pizzas from the oven.

"I'm not sayin' it's not worth it, Claire," Sam said, holding his hands up at her, "but it's a hundred 'n fifty-year-old mental institution with a half-acre of unmarked graves. It's the definition of a needle in a haystack."

"But those are patients," Claire urged at him, Morgan looked at Dean who rolled his eyes and returned to cutting slices of hot pizza, "the story says it was a doctor, his daughter was mentally ill and he kept her locked up, tryin' every awful thing to cure her."

"So, maybe it's the daughter," Sam shrugged.

"Maybe," Claire looked away, clearly having not considered that option.

"What we have to pay attention to here," Sam adjusted the laptop and inch towards Claire and scrolled down the page, "is the date, something happened on September, 28th, if we find out the significance of that date in Nigel, we'll find our ghost."

"Nigel Mental Institution?" Morgan turned at the familiar town name and understood immediately what they were discussing.

"You know it?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows at his sister.

"Mother and I lived there a few years ago," she nodded and peered at his computer screen, seeing lists of unknown deaths, every year on the same day going back as far as they'd kept records, "The Lily Kyle story?"

"That was her name," Claire nodded, "the doctor's daughter."

Morgan shook her head, sitting across from Sam, "She was a minister's daughter," remembering the story she'd overheard in her Mother's kitchen years before, "and was kinda, well, promiscuous, his friend was one of the head doctors at the institution at the time and with his help they locked her up, you're right about the awful things they did, but it was to curb her interest in, well y'know," Morgan blushed a little as she finished.

"Sex," Claire said simply with an amused grin at Morgan, who nodded in response, "you're such a prude," she giggled.

"We're okay with that," Dean interjected from the counter, winking at Morgan when she glanced at him.

"How'd you know this?" Sam returned to the subject with an intrigued look at her.

"I overheard a hunter asking Mother for help identifying the ghost, I wasn't involved, but I heard bits 'n pieces over the few hours they spoke. His name was Ardy, I only remember 'cause he kept sayin' it even though Mother called him Arnold repeatedly."

"Arden Gilipsie," Sam said, his eyes on his screen, "deceased September 28th, 2012. S'that 'bout the time you and your Mother lived there?"

"It wasn't long after they talked we left, I was twelve," Morgan thought, "I remember takin' the train to Chicago, we stayed there for like a week, it was kinda cold out, and the train was packed with Cubs fans, Mother nearly put a freezing spell on everyone in our car and mumbled about her hatred for baseball."

"Coulda been October," Sam shrugged.

"Not with the Chicago Cubs," Dean interjected.

"They're lookin' pretty good for the world series this year," Sam challenged.

"Yeah, that ain't gonna happen," Dean scoffed, putting two sliced pizzas on the table and turning back for a small stack of plates on the counter.

"Guys," Claire stared at the two Winchester men with a bored expression, "Can we get back to the case?"

"Why?" Dean asked sitting finally at the table, "Y'plannin' on takin' it?"

Claire looked incredulously at him, "Yeah, we're hunters, this is what we do."

"Right now," Dean crossed his arms at her in a fashion Morgan was very familiar with, "we're doin' some home schoolin' style trainin'."

"Dean," Claire implored with frustration, Morgan and Sam stared at each other uncomfortably and both took large bites of pizza in necessary distraction, "This ghost is gonna kill somebody else in three days if we don't stop it!"

Dean sighed with a quick glance at the dark-haired girl shoveling pizza in her mouth, clearly torn between his instinct to kill a ghost and his stronger predisposition to protect his family.

"One of us could go," Sam shrugged and immediately put his hands in a defensive position from the glare Dean shot at him, "Claire could get some practice-"

"Wanna talk 'bout how great your last solo hunt went, Sammy?" Dean asked bitterly and Sam glanced down for a moment seemingly defeated.

"Why can't we all go?" Claire looked around at the Winchesters and Morgan fixed her eyes on the empty plate in front of her, heating rising in her cheeks and ears.

"We're workin' on somethin' here," Dean responded simply with an eyebrow raise at Claire that even she understood and clamped her lips together with a dissatisfied huff.

"Dean," Sam ignored the stern eyes he received from his brother, "Why don't you take her? Morgan 'n I could keep goin' on the library 'n binge some Harry Potter movies," Morgan could tell Dean was fighting with himself at this idea and was surprised when he met her eyes with a questioning brow raise, silently asking her opinion.

Morgan nodded earnestly, she could tell her oldest brother was itching to kill something supernatural and had missed the nest of vampires in Sioux Falls to take her to the hospital. For a few silent moments, she and Dean continued their silent conversation before they grinned at each other and with a final nod he turned to Claire.

"Ok, be ready to roll out firs' thing in the morning," Dean said gruffly and Claire almost bounced in her chair with excitement, "I'm talkin' like 5am kid, we gotta ten-hour drive ahead'a us."

Claire nodded eagerly at him with a mouthful of pizza, eating happily after getting her way. Morgan felt a pang of lonely jealousy realizing Dean would be leaving for several days, but Sam's shoulder squeeze and encouraging smile, when he caught her disheartened look, was enough to remind her she still had one brother all to herself. Morgan smiled back at Sam, remembering the last time she and Sam had been alone together, she was suddenly excited at the prospect of testing some new spells away from Dean's watchful eyes.

Everyone was exhausted from the trip and now that Dean and Claire were getting ready to leave early the next morning, he declared it was bedtime for everyone when both pizzas had been reduced to a pile of crumbs. Sam rolled his eyes at his older brother's order, but the long yawn that followed stifled any argument he would have made against it and they all made their way to their bedrooms.

Morgan said good night in the hall, slipping into her room and over the warm, invisible fire line. Quickly changing into sweatpants and one of Dean's old shirts he'd given her to sleep in on her first night, she heard a knock on her door.

"Come in," she called absentmindedly and saw Dean slip in at her invitation.

"Hey, I just wanted to-" but an agonizing yell cut the rest of his sentence short and Morgan screamed, lunging at her brother as he cradled a burned hand in the other.

"DEAN!" she cried frantically as he backed away from her.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" He yelled so loud, clutching red, raw fingers to his chest, that her door swung open and Claire followed Sam over the threshold, but Dean threw his good arm across them both to halt any further entrance as he glowered angrily down at Morgan.

"I'm, I'm s-sorry," tears were streaming down her cheeks seeing the pain and anger she caused on her brother's face, "I-I can fix it," she said quickly and rushed towards the spell book she'd used before, fumbling to the 'Remedium' section and scanning the words as fast as she could until she found the ones she needed.

"Dean," she turned to him with teary eyes, he was still seething at her, but trustingly extended his badly burned hand, wincing at her gentle touch as she quickly yelled the incantation she'd never tried before with all the conviction she could muster, "cure ardebit!"

The pained expression on his handsome face was replaced with relief, but quickly returned to anger and Morgan felt her stomach twist, averting her eyes from his.

"Sam, Claire," Dean growled, his eyes still locked on the little witch cowering in front of him, "Get out."

They moved so quickly Morgan barely saw them leave before the door closed and she was alone with her very angry big brother. Keeping her eyes on the floor, she was waiting for him to yell, but when he didn't, she slowly raised her head to look at him through long eyelashes.

"Explain," he breathed, trying to remain calm, but the twitch in his jaw told Morgan he was right on the edge.

A hitch in her throat threatened sobbing and her face broke again into small cries, but Dean crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes further at her, silently waiting for a response.

Morgan took a deep, shuddering breath, "I'm sorry," Dean's expression didn't change, but the vein in his forehead throbbed aggressively, "I was just," she searched for words and quickly started to realize how stupid her plan had been from the beginning, "I just- I didn't want- Claire was so mean about me being a witch 'n I just didn't want to be sleeping and she'd try to, just- well-"

"You were worried Claire would try to kill you under my roof?" Dean growled angrily and suddenly her entire plan was obviously idiotic, all she could do was hang her head and nod in pathetic admittance, "D'you actually think I'd bring someone here if I had the smallest impression they might try to hurt you?" keeping her eyes locked on her feet, Morgan shook her head with fresh tears welling in her eyes, "D'ja consider Sam or I would come in 'n check on you? Your little fire trick could've really hurt someone, Morgan! Did you even think about that?!"

Tears were hitting her bare feet and her shoulders shook as she tried to hold back the sobs wracking her tiny frame. She wanted nothing more than his forgiveness, but knew she didn't deserve it.

"Morgan," Dean's tone demanded she look at him and slowly she raised her teary eyes to his angry matching set, "take it down right now," with a small nod she turned and pulled her hands down in front of her, mumbling 'ignis finem' three times and saw the transparent shimmer disappear to the floor, turning back to her brother she returned her gaze to her feet, but he tugged her chin up to him with a finger so she couldn't look away, "I'm not done with you," her stomach twisted at the words she used to hear hissed by her Mother, instinctually wincing in preparation for a strike to her head.

Dean released her chin and pulled the desk chair out, gesturing her to have a seat, which she did without any further prompting. He grabbed a notebook from the stack in the corner of the desk, flipped it open in front of her and set a pen on top, her face still tear streaked, Morgan looked at him with confusion.

"I will trust my brothers to keep me safe at home," he pointed to the top of the page, "write it," he waited as he she finished the sentence on the top line and looked back at him for further instruction, "keep goin'," he growled low, "three pages, back 'n front, right now."

Morgan nodded, it was quite possibly the easiest punishment she'd ever been given, or so she thought. Dean left the room with the promise to return soon as she hunched over the notebook rewriting the sentence over and over. After the fourth time, she felt the guilt swirling more fiercely in her stomach, by the tenth she was crying again and continued to wipe tears away with her cramping hand. She'd only finished a page and a half by the time Dean returned to check on her progress, she didn't look up, feeling him lean over the desk. He said nothing and left again a moment later, at the sound of the closing door Morgan burst into a fresh sob, but forced herself to continue writing shakily. The words were sinking in with every period she dotted at the end of each sentence. There was no reason for her not to trust them, her brothers had proven their protectiveness over her in several circumstances within their short time together. She'd injured Dean and could have seriously hurt either of them with the fire line, all because Claire had made an offhanded comment in anger about practicing hunting skills on her. Turning to a fresh page, Morgan cried again and didn't bother to shake out the cramp in her hand before beginning again to write more lines.

I will trust my brothers to keep me safe at home. The words were pointed and deliberate, reminding her with each stroke of the pen that she had a home and brothers and her mistakes would affect them. Her sobs subsided into pathetic sniffles by the final third page, having never felt this chastised in all her years of being punished physically and almost wished Dean had simply beaten her in his anger. He returned to her room, changed in sweatpants and a clean t-shirt, just as she was completing the final sentence.

Morgan set the pen down, but didn't turn, unsure if she was allowed to and waited as Dean leaned over, nodding at the three filled pages of lines, blotched with tears. Without a word, he took her hand, pulling the shaking young witch to stand in front of him and wrapped his strong arms around her. At the embrace she craved, Morgan burst into fresh tears, clinging to her brother and repeating her earnest apology as she shook in his arms. Slowly regaining control, she heard Dean hushing her quietly and felt him plant a soft kiss on the top of her head.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," she sniffled as he held her away from him a little, still holding her wrists.

"I know," he nodded, the anger from earlier having left his expression, and sat on her bed, pulling her next to him, "But if you're scared 'bout somethin' you need to talk to me or Sam, and never, ever think that we would do anything, or bring anyone around you, that would put you in harm's way. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded at him, rubbing her right hand from the uncomfortable cramping still lingering in her palm.

"Y'ever gonna pull some crap like that again?" Dean raised his eyebrows at her.

She shook her head vigorously.

"Good," he nodded, "'cause the next time you get lines you're writin'em on a sore ass. Got me?" Morgan stared at him with wide terrified eyes, before Dean shook his head sighing, "I'm not gonna beat you, Morgan, you know that, but if you've never had a spanking before you're in for a rude awakening," she shook her head in honest confusion, "It ain't fun, for anyone involved, but little girl, I will wear out my hand on your behind if you deserve it," she felt a twinge of embarrassment at those words, not understanding exactly what they meant, but her Mother's beatings had never come with warnings and she'd certainly never aimed for one body part, seemingly satisfied as long as she made contact with the girl's skin, Dean shrugged, "y'pro'bly deserved it now," giving her a shoulder a lighthearted nudge.

"Then, why didn't you?" the question spilled quietly from her lips before she could catch it, afraid he'd change his mind.

"Too angry," he scoffed a little, offering her a small smile, "by the time I calmed down enough, I realized the lines were havin' the affect I was goin' for, 'n I think you were already pretty upset at yourself when you saw what happened, huh?"

She nodded at him, "I'd never want to hurt you, Dean, I love you," the last words trailed off as her face grew hot from the admittance of her adoration towards her oldest brother, it was the first time she'd ever said 'I love you' to anyone.

His arms wrapped around her again tightly and he pulled her easily onto his lap, "I love you, too, Brat," and with a joking glare continued, "don't you dare tell Sammy I said that."

She giggled a little and hugged him back, wishing he wouldn't leave and knowing she would miss him like crazy for the next few days. Finally, he scooped her up, lying her in her bed and tossing the blanket over her before placing one more kiss on her forehead and promising he'd see her in a few days. Morgan turned over when he flicked her light off and closed her eyes, listening to the ticking of the analog clock on her wall, knowing she was safe at home in her bed with her brothers protecting her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback and hope you're enjoying!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Don't own Supernatural*
> 
> Claire and Dean head off on a hunt while Sam and Morgan spend some time at the bunker... But her dreams are again intruded on by the Devil dressed as her oldest brother
> 
> *If anyone is curious- all the spells Morgan does are Latin, though that won't always be the case...

Dean and Claire had been on the road a few hours by the time Morgan yawned her way into the kitchen to make coffee and found Sam pouring himself a cup, seeing her in the doorway he simply flipped another mug and poured a second. She nodded in thanks at him and he grunted in return as they both sipped their mugs of steaming black coffee, leaning against the table and counter, neither's eyes were fully open.

"So," Sam set him mug down after several large sips and gave Morgan an understanding smirk, "what was that last night?"

Morgan's cheeks flushed immediately, remembering her mistake from the night before, "Stupid," she said quietly, "I'm really sorry."

"Truth," Sam nodded with a small grin, "but I'm not the one that got burned, literally, but I'm pretty sure you already apologized to him a few times. Really, though, what was that spell?"

"It's a fire line," she shrugged, "pretty effective and powerful, it was a really bad idea."

"Secretively in your bedroom? Oh, yeah," Sam scoffed, nodding his head, then looked sideways at her with a little concern in his eyes, "What'd Dean do?"

Morgan blushed again, sipped her coffee and kept her eyes on the rippling liquid in her mug, "Had me write three full pages of lines," she shrugged and looked up at Sam, who didn't look at all shocked, inclining her head with the burning question ready to burst from her lips, "Sam, what's a spanking?"

He cringed at the word, but didn't seem surprised at the question as he shrugged a little to himself and nodded slowly at her, "Awful," he scoffed, but at her wide eyes, continued with more clarification, "it's a punishment, 'n a serious one in this family," he paused, searching the ceiling for his next words, "they're more embarrassing than painful, but trust me it hurts, but not like what you're thinkin', it's definitely not abuse, Dean would never hurt you."

Morgan nodded slowly, but Sam's explanation hadn't given her any better understanding, "Ok, but, what is it?"

The blush Sam had been trying to hide deepened in his cheeks as he sighed, "How 'bout you just don't get in trouble 'n don't worry 'bout it?"

"Saaaam," she whined.

"Moooorrrrgan," he responded mockingly.

"C'mon," she pleaded, looking at him with sad eyes, "Dean told me if I get lines again I'm writin'em on a sore ass," Sam stifled a chuckle and Morgan stomped an impatient foot, "Sam, tell me!"

"You're doin' a good job'a findin' out all on your own y'keep stompin' your feet," Sam raised an eyebrow in a perfect impression of Dean, Morgan leaned back and sipped her coffee docilly, still giving him pleading eyes through her long eyelashes, and with a heavy sigh Sam said, "I promise you don't want to find out first hand, Dean'll smack you little butt 'till sittin' is a distant memory."

Morgan stared at him with wide eyes, "With what?"

Sam shook his head in confusion at the question, "What, with what, what?"

"What'll he smack me with?" Morgan's mind had a vivid picture of her Mother's loathed cord, small stains of her blood wound in the tight fibers, and ran her fingers over the raised scars on her arm.

"His hand," Sam said obviously, "It's not abusive, Morgan, it's a pretty standard punishment for most kids growin' up."

"Dean said your Dad didn't beat you," Morgan inclined her head at Sam, who shook his again in good-natured frustration.

"He didn't," Sam grinned at her a little, "but he definitely tanned both our asses on numerous occasions."

"But you still fought with him all the time?"

Sam shook his head slowly at her, disbelief on his face, "He didn't do it because we had a difference in opinion," sipping his coffee he gave his sister a sad grin, "I got grounded a lot for being disrespectful, or he'd wake me up early to run miles, extra pt for a few days, it was only really serious screw ups that would put Dad to that point."

"What about New York?" the journal entry Morgan had read popped in her mind.

Sam chuckled, "CBGB's story?" Morgan nodded, "Oh, yeah, Dean got his ass handed to him after that one, once Dad calmed down, which took the entire state of Pennsylvania, but Dean knew he'd messed up 'n I know he felt better when it was all square between 'em."

Morgan considered the repeated information, their Dad had written in his journal he was too angry to deal with Dean that morning, here was Sam confirming John's long calming period before disciplining his son, and last night, when asked, Dean had told her he'd been too angry to spank her. This did not correlate with the angry rages her Mother would attack her in, with little or no cause, sometimes just for the sake of releasing her frustrations on the little girl who couldn't fight back. For the violent killers they were, the Winchester men had a lot of control over their emotions, Morgan silently hoped she'd be like her Dad and brothers someday. Slowly she nodded her understanding at Sam.

"Ok, we good?" he asked and smiled with relief when she nodded again, "Good, don't be a brat 'n you'll be fine," she rolled her eyes at him with a sigh, "yeah, you're right, your ass is toast," and with that Sam laughed, slipping out of the kitchen and sticking a mocking tongue out the way she usually did at them.

Morgan giggled at his exit, feeling better having gained an explanation, though concerned about the reality of Dean's threat. She still didn't understand how being smacked could make someone feel better, but tried to remember Sam's assurance that the abuses of her past were not comparable to this corporal punishment. Dean had said it wasn't fun for anyone involved, but that didn't relate to the distorted looks of pleasure she'd seen on her Mother's face while being pummeled into unconsciousness. From all this information, Morgan decided they were not equivalent, but resolved she would not put herself in a position to earn a spanking from Dean.

The entire morning and most of the afternoon was spent finishing their cataloging project in the library, which had to be essentially restarted since they'd had to shove things back in drawers due to interruptions. Finally finishing, they celebrated with the last of the frozen tv dinners for lunch. Sam took off in the middle of the afternoon and returned a little over an hour later, his arms laden with grocery bags, a case of beer in one hand and pop in the other.

"Hey," he called, entering the open room and heaving the bags and boxes on top of the map table as Morgan jumped down the stairs from the library, "grab a couple of these, my fingers are goin' numb. Y'ok here by yourself?"

She rolled her eyes at him with a grin, "Yes, Sam, for the tenth time, I'm fine by myself for two minutes in this heavily warded fortress."

"Ok, Brat," he chuckled, dragging a few plastic bags and both beverage cases off the table and lead them to the kitchen, "what'cha been up to?"

"I read some more of your Dad's journal," she shrugged following him down the hallway and into the kitchen, a heavy bag in each hand.

"Y'know," Sam grinned at her after lifting everything on to the counter and pulling his arms from the plastic loops, "he was your Dad too."

"Yeah," Morgan set the three she was carrying next to his and began unloading the cans inside, "but I didn't know him."

Sam nodded sadly, "So, where're y'at?"

"Nineteen-ninety-seven, he's on a Rugaru case with a hunter named Bobby," she looked quizzically at Sam to see if the name was familiar and was not disappointed at the genuine smile that graced Sam's face at the name.

"Not in New Mexico by any chance?" Sam asked, the smile fading from his face.

"Yeah, why?"

"Like, July-ish?"

"End of," Morgan nodded, "Why?"

"Oh, you'll find out," Sam scoffed, putting a case of beer in the fridge next to a fresh case of pop, "definitely not one of my finest moments."

"What'd you do?" Morgan giggled, stacking cans of beans and vegetables on the bottom shelf of the island.

"Ran away," Sam said simply, Morgan whipped her head around in surprise.

"Why?" Morgan was astounded, still staring at him with a can of baked beans in her hand waiting to be stacked.

"I was fourteen," Sam shrugged and continued unpacking groceries, Morgan had forgotten about the beans she was holding, still staring at him as she stood to listen, "tired of bein' dragged around everywhere by Dad 'n we got into it just before he left, I don't even remember what about, but a few days after he left I snuck a bus to Flagstaff and broke into an old cabin in the forest. Took them two weeks to find me, but I'm pretty sure it took almost a week for Dean to tell Dad I was gone, he left the hunt with Bobby early and booked it back to Arizona."

"So," Morgan unconsciously knocked the beans on the counter and finally slipped them on top of a stack underneath, "what happened?"

Sam chuckled, shaking his head, "You jus' got a theme today, huh?" at her confused expression Sam scoffed good-naturedly and continued, "I got my ass handed to me as soon as he walked in the cabin, and back at the room later, thinkin' about it, I'm surprised he was as restrained as he was with me," Sam had an uncomfortable grimace on his face, "but that may've been 'cause he wasn't with Dean."

"Dean?" Morgan continued to narrow her eyes in confusion at him, "Wha'd Dean do?"

Sam sighed heavily, "I ran off while Dean was watchin' me, he never talked about it, but he definitely got it harder than me."

Morgan nodded a little disheartened at Sam, thankfully the loud vibration from his pocket disrupted their moment of awkward silence.

"Hey, Dean," Sam held the phone to the side of his head, "Yeah, everything's good. You 'n Claire make it to Nigel? – Good, yeah, ok hold on," holding the phone out to Morgan, "he wants to talk to you."

"Hi, Dean," Morgan smiled into the phone.

"Hey, Brat, y'behavin'?" his tone was lighthearted.

"Y'sir," she offered a little sarcastic sneer in her response, understanding his joke still carried an air of seriousness, "Sam 'n I finished the library."

"Good job," Dean praised, "thank you for helpin'. What're you two doin' for food? I realized after we left the kitchen's a wasteland."

"Sam ran to the st-" Morgan's nonchalant response was cut short by Sam's suddenly wide, terrified eyes and fervent head shake at her.

"He what?!" Dean barked so suddenly and loudly she briefly pulled the phone from her head, "When? How long was he gone?"

Sam continued shaking his head vigorously at her, his expression not changing, as Dean kept shouting short questions with very little response time allowed in between. Morgan was completely overwhelmed and didn't understand either of their reactions, when Dean yelled in the phone again as she opened her mouth to speak she simply shook her head and slammed the phone on the metal counter in frustration.

"Hey!" Sam yelled indignantly at her, "Easy!"

"Morgan! Sam! One'a you better say something!" Dean's echoing growl was faintly heard from the phone's upside down position on the counter, Sam and Morgan stared at each other until he finally picked it up.

"Yeah, Dean, listen," Sam began, "No I- Dean, wha'd you want me to do? Cas is not Pea Pod, Dean, he's an angel! Pea Pod, dude, it's like a grocery delivery service- we can't have groceries delivered to an abandoned warehouse- I know, look man I went as fast as I could, I was gone a little over an hour 'n I'd've brought her if I had the Impala but none of the other cars are warded like that- yeah we should- ok, we good? Uh, no, the phone just slipped outta her hand," Sam gave Morgan a sideways glance she returned with an appreciative grin, "Yeah, we'll be good, talk soon," Sam hit the screen and shook his head at his sister with a mocking pointed finger, "Toast."

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The younger two Winchesters entertained themselves over the following day with a trip to the gymnasium before breakfast and Sam showed Morgan fighting and defensive moves. He said it wouldn't hurt to know how to defend herself without magic, Morgan couldn't disagree and enjoyed sparring with Sam, despite knowing how easy he was going on her. Half the day was lazed away in the library as he poured over his laptop and Morgan took the opportunity to study the Men of Letters spell books more thoroughly. She kept going back to an incantation for invisibility, reminding her of Harry Potter's incredibly useful cloak, and decided to give it a try. After carefully reading through the instructions and reversal spell several times, Morgan focused on the small cluster of empty beer bottles next to Sam.

"Persipicuum invisibilia," she said quietly while waving both palms downward, smiling wide when every bottle disappeared immediately as intended.

"Hey," Sam smiled over his laptop at her, "that was cool, what'ja find?"

"Invisibility spell," Morgan said excitedly.

"No way," Sam shook his head in disbelief and gently felt towards where the bottles were, the clink and crash that followed was proof enough they were still solid, "Wow, Morgan, that's incredible."

"Visi," Morgan waved her hands in one upward sweeping motion and the bottles reappeared, though now sideways on the table and one had tumbled to the floor, "Yeah, this would've been great a long time ago," she chuckled to herself, not catching the sad expression that passed over Sam's face, "I'm not sure if it's safe on people though, it doesn't have a lot of warning or footnotes."

"We'll have to test it out," Sam shrugged and Morgan responded with wide, scared eyes, "On like a random demon, kid, not you," he shook his head incredulously at her, "Y'know I really wish I coulda met your Mother in person, just once, I'm actually surprised our Dad found her, y'know attractive considering what she was like."

"She was very different around others," Morgan remembered the unrecognizable voice her Mother crooned at strangers with, "and she was beautiful, trust me, she played whatever part she had to perfectly," she thought of the few times her Mother had caught her spying while she'd been with a hunter and she'd been nothing but sweet and motherly, even offering the little girl a drink before going back to her room, only to beat her within an inch of her life later, when they were alone, "And if she wanted John Winchester to think she was charming, he did."

Sam offered a noncommittal gesture with his head and gathered the beer bottles back into the cluster on the map table, "How 'bout we find somethin' bigger for you to try that out on?"

"Yeah!" Morgan nodded excitedly and jumped up, closing the book on the table.

"Don'tcha need that?" Sam pointed to the huge volume.

"Nah," Morgan shook her head, "I got it."

"Do you memorize everything instantly?" he asked almost jealously.

"Simple stuff," she shrugged at him, "long spells and potions can take a little while, some I have to reference just in case."

"You're incredible," Sam smiled, clapping a large hand on her shoulder and leading her towards the garage.

"Thanks," she smiled, accepting the compliment with a small rise of color in her cheeks.

The familiar turns through the halls brought a recent memory to mind and Morgan laughed to herself thinking of her first trip to the dungeon behind the storage walls, how she'd tried to escape on bare feet only to be thrown unceremoniously over Dean's shoulder when he'd caught her in a dead-end. She couldn't imagine wanting to run away from them now and felt a quick stab of loneliness at Dean's absence, but smiled up at Sam's kind expression, glad to have some one on one time with him.

The garage as always was bright and inviting, full of beautiful, gleaming classic automobiles and motorcycles, Sam gestured her to follow him to one of the convertibles, sitting proud in between a couple ancient Buick's with wooden wheel spokes.

"Alright," Sam nodded at the green convertible, "let's see it, or, well, not see it."

Morgan gave him a sideways glance, but decided she was up to the challenge and squared herself in the center of the chrome grille, "Persipicuum invisibilia," waving her palms downward, she saw the car flicker and fade, remaining very visible, but ghostly.

She sighed with a little frustration, but Sam shook his head with a smile at her, "C'mon, don't get discouraged, this is way bigger than beer bottles, think of how many pieces are in and under what you can see."

Morgan raised her eyebrows and smiled excitedly at him, realizing she'd only been focusing on the visible part of the vehicle, trying to wrap her mind around the gravity of weight and volume of parts under the body structure, she breathed out slowly while lowering her palms, "Persipicuum invisibilia."

Immediately, the green convertible flashed into nothingness, completely hidden in the air before them. Sam laughed out loud and patted the hood of the car with a loud thud.

"I knew you could do it!" he held a fist out and she tapped her knuckles against his, smiling at the proud look he gave her, "Can you bring it back?"

Remembering the magnitude of the object, Morgan lifted her palms and with as much focused conviction as she could muster, "VISI!"

The green convertible flashed back in its stall, Morgan scoffed, a little surprised at herself, ignoring the twinge of discomfort flickering in the back of her skull. For good measure, she once more cast the invisibility spell and watched the large car vanish with the downward swoop of her palms and reappear as she brought them swiftly towards the ceiling. Sam laughed happily for a moment and stared at her a little surprised, but mostly full of pride.

"Wow," he breathed, shaking his head, "you're frickin' amazing, seriously, just, wow."

"What else y'got?" Morgan asked happily, peering around for something larger to try out her new spell on.

Sam scoffed at her with a mysterious smile, his hair hanging in his face as he raised his eyebrows at her, "What else you got?"

Disregarding the growing ache in her head, Morgan tried whichever spells she wanted and obliged Sam whenever he found one he wanted her to attempt, as they scoured through incantations hour after hour. For the first time, learning new magic was fun. They laughed manically when she'd only shrunk the blade of the saber in the library, not the hilt, on her first effort at a size altering incantation, but on her second try managed to affect the entire sword. Sam showed her an addition to the size changing spell in another of the Men of Letter's addendums, allowing a time length before the object automatically reverted to its normal size. After several attempts and a massive graduation in her headache for the trouble, Morgan managed to shrink Sam's pistol to miniscule proportions for exactly one minute before it expanded completely intact to its normal size.

"Incredible," Sam smiled in awe, picking the gun up from the library table, "that'll be useful," he winked at Morgan, but caught the grimace on her face, "Y'ok?"

"Yeah," she nodded unconvincingly, gritting her teeth from the increased throbbing in her temples, "I'm fine."

"Si'down," Sam gestured the arm chair with his gun and Morgan slumped into it without further invitation, "I think we went a little overboard."

"Was fun though," she smiled weakly at him.

"Yeah it was," Sam chuckled, gently rubbing her shoulders, "Think somethin' to eat might help?"

Morgan shook her head, stopping quickly as it increased the pain, "I think I needa lie down," she pushed herself up, unable to keep her hands from squeezing both temples to alleviate some discomfort.

Sam put both strong hands on her shoulders, but Morgan shrugged him off with a mumble about not needing help, just before a badly aimed step down the stairs.

"Damnit, Morgan," Sam snapped, holding her to him by a firm grip on her upper arm.

Peering down the stairs at her near tumble onto the hard tile, Morgan glanced apologetically up at Sam's scowl, "Thanks."

Sam shook his head, "Y'know, you better start acceptin' help sometimes 'r your gonna get hurt one'a these days," without releasing his grip, Sam marched her slowly down the stairs and towards their bedrooms.

"Saaaam," Morgan whined and tried to pull her arm away, "I'm fiiiine."

"That's why you almost fell down the stairs, right," Sam scoffed, but loosened his hold a little, "Just, damnit Brat, you scared the crap outta me," Morgan saw him shake his head with a grimace and felt a pang of guilt realizing his reaction was entirely from adrenaline of seeing her nearly crack her skull at the bottom of the stairs.

"I'm sorry, Sam," she mumbled sadly as he opened her door and finally released her arm to give her a small push inside.

"For what?" he raised one eyebrow at her with his hands on his hips.

At his perfect impression of their older brother, Morgan felt another wave of longing wash over her, wishing Dean was home, but immediately shook her aching head of the idea considering what Dean's reaction would be if this was Sam's. Morgan glanced through long eyelashes, from her feet, up at Sam's best attempt at a stern expression.

"Almost falling down the stairs," she said questioningly, the last words trailing off as he shook his head at her.

"D'ja do that on purpose?" Sam asked, trying to hide his amusement and gently guiding her to her unmade bed.

"No," Morgan scoffed and followed Sam's silent gestured order to lie down.

"So," Sam tried not to smile and tossed the blanket over her after she'd kicked her boots to the floor, "maybe more like your stubborn reaction to me tryin' to give you a hand that lead to you almost falling down the stairs?" she nodded gingerly at him, her headache having reached a dull stabbing and she badly wanted to close her eyes, "You're not an island anymore, Morgan," Sam leaned down and landed a quick peck on her throbbing forehead, before turning to the door and flipping the light switch, "Sleep, I'll check on you in a bit."

With an affirmative grunting sound, Morgan rolled over and let the pain and darkness push her into unconsciousness.

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'There you are Sweetheart, I've missed you.'

The low, raspy voice hissed softly and Morgan felt her blood run cold, focusing around the dark room, stopping on the outline of a man and brief flash of red pupils. Dean's form stepped closer to her bed, but Morgan knew it was not her brother and inched as far back against the headboard as she could, clutching her blankets to her chest. She willed herself to wake up, but felt a hold against her magic and widen her terrified eyes at the awful being looming closer.

'I need your help, you're the only one who can help me.' The hissing echoed in her head as his mouth remained in a stagnant smirk, dead eyes boring into her.

"I'll never help you!" Morgan yelled, trying in vain to keep her voice level, "Go away!"

"What is it about your little head that's so hard to get into?" he crooned very unlike Dean, inclining his head with a devilish grin, "But I know where you are, Morgan."

"So, come get me!" she sneered far more confidently than she felt, holding her knocking knees together under the blankets with clammy palms.

"You'll find me," he nodded, "soon."

"Don't count on it," Morgan scoffed, wishing the real Dean was there, but determined to channel his confidence, "you don't even have a vessel yet, do you?" the brief flash of red angry eyes told Morgan she was right and internally breathed a sigh of relief before offering her most sincere mocking smirk, "Well, good luck with that."

"Your little body guards are rubbing off on you sweetheart," he sneered, "and not in an attractive way. Lover boy here might not like little girls with as much grit as him," lowering his menacing eyes on her he continued, "How did you find them anyway? I wish you'd let me in that powerful little brain of yours, I could show you abilities you never thought possible, even in your wildest dreams. Why do you block me from your thoughts? Let me see what you're thinking."

"NO!" Morgan yelled with a shaky voice she couldn't control, fighting as hard as she could to summon a spell, any spell, anything that would take her from this awful nightmare, but it felt like her magic was being held just out of reach, "STOP! PLEASE!"

"No one can help you," he grinned wickedly, "you're alone, the Winchesters aren't coming to save you."

The name perked her ears, her name, her family, blood more powerful than Odin's or her Mother's magical legacy, she was a Winchester and in that moment glared back at the devil with gleaming, green eyes. She would not continue to be vulnerable when she knew she was strong, her brothers' encouraging faces flashed in her mind and she smiled challengingly at the Dean imposter, feeling warm rage bubbling over her fear.

"PARVA PARUM!" Morgan shouted the incantation with every ounce of emotion coursing through her while squeezing both hands into tight balled fists.

His amused expression faded quickly, as did he, and rapidly shrunk into nothingness on the floor of her dream bedroom. In that same moment, it was as if a fish left out of water just plopped back in the ocean, filling her entire self and soul with the magic she'd always known, the power that had habitually been her only companion. Without even a second glance at the ground to check the effectiveness of her incantation, Morgan thought hard, willing herself to wake, pinching her arms and finally letting out the only word she could think of in a pathetic, last chance, shrieking plea to release her from this hallucination.

"SAAAAM!"

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Her room was bright and she was freezing, her clothes sticking from the sweat covering her skin, the blanket twisted like a snake constricting her arms and legs. Morgan felt the blanket being tugged and loosened as her eyes focused on the mane of long, brown hair falling in front of her, Sam's kind hazel eyes full of concern locked on hers. She didn't have to say a word, but simply looked at him with teary, terror filled eyes and he understood exactly the nightmare she'd just escaped from, Sam breathed heavily and pulled her into his strong arms, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"I'm so sorry," he sighed quietly, "Morgan, I am so sorry."

Morgan wasn't sure if he was apologizing for the dream he had no control of or repeating his lament on letting Lucifer out to begin with, but she shook her head beneath his and spoke as steadily as she could, "It's not your fault, Sam, but you helped me get away from him," he pulled her away, keeping his hands on her shoulders, and inclined his head at her with a quizzical gaze, "I used a new spell to distract him and gain back control."

"Wha'd you use?" Sam asked, though further confusion was evident in his expression.

"Parum," she grinned mischievously at his through long eyelashes.

Sam laughed out loud briefly, shaking his head at her in disbelief, "You shrunk Lucifer?"

"Dream Lucifer," she clarified with a small shrug, but giggled out loud when Sam poked her in the sides a few times happily.

"Oh, I wish I coulda seen that," Sam laughed heartily for several moments at his own vision of Lucifer shrinking to the size of a thumbtack, however, noticing the badly hidden fear on Morgan's face, he returned to a more stoic state, "So, what happened? Before you shrunk him."

"I was in my bed, it was just like this, except y'know like a dream," Sam nodded his understanding and she continued, "He looked like Dean again," she glanced sideways at Sam, but he didn't show any signs of feeling snubbed at the Devil's choice of hallucination puppets, "and it was like he was holding onto my magic, it was the weirdest and worst feeling ever, I could kinda feel it but I couldn't get to it, at least not most of it, I got angry again and that's how I managed to shrink him and it was like as soon as I did that all my power came back, it was really weird."

"Yeah," Sam nodded with a grimace of solidarity, "and awful. But hey, you got the upper hand and you were all on your own, huh?" he gave her shoulder a gentle nudge, "Morgan, that's incredible, you're incredible," she dipped her head to hide an eye roll, but he lifted her chin with a strong finger and locked his eyes on hers again, "You are, I love you little girl 'n I'm proud you're my sister."

The tears were slipping down her cheeks before she'd even realized she was crying and Sam had her pressed back against his strong chest in a tight embrace. She wrapped her thin arms around him and looked up through long eyelashes with a wide, genuine smile.

"I love you too, Sam," she breathed happily, afraid it was too good to be true, it wasn't long ago she didn't know what it meant to love or be loved and now she was more terrified to lose it than anything else in the entire world.

After a few minutes of silent appreciation of the other's existence, Sam looked down at her through pieces of hair falling in his eyes and smiled, "How 'bout we relax for a bit, maybe make a pizza and watch a movie in my room?"

Morgan nodded, wanting nothing more than a welcome distraction from the terrible images she couldn't shake.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is- this chapter contains SPANKING of a minor! Despite the repeated opportunities Dean gives her, her attitude gets the better of her and well, Dean's a man of his word...

At one point, sometime during The Hobbit, Sam and Morgan both fell asleep reclined against the wall on his bed, the popcorn bowl between them managed to stay upright. Her dreams, if she'd had any, were undisturbed for those few hours and she woke refreshed at Sam's six AM alarm. Giggling through a yawn when Sam sleepily slammed a giant foot on top of the blaring clock, silencing it instantly.

"Moooornin'," he yawned, stretching his long arms over his head and setting slightly concerned eyes on her, "how'd'ja sleep?"

"Good," she nodded, "no Lucifer."

"All we can hope for," he scoffed, pushing himself off the bed and offering his hand to help her, she took it though perfectly capable of getting down by herself, "Y'hungry?"

"Do we have bacon?" Morgan smiled slyly with raised eyebrows.

"Like three pigs worth," Sam chuckled and gestured her to the door as his phone began buzzing on the desk, sliding his finger across the screen he pressed it to his ear, "Yeah, hey- productive trip? – good- we're okay, we uh, well she had a visitor in her dream last night- no, she's ok, really, Dean, tough as nails," Sam winked encouragingly at Morgan, opening the door and pointing towards the kitchen as he followed her out, "She's good, just wait till- yeah- fine, but Dean, don't push, I'm serious," Sam held the phone to his chest, stopping just short of the kitchen, "he wants to talk to you," putting the phone in her immediately extended hand.

"Hi Dean."

"Hey, y'ok?" his deep voice filled with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she mumbled, not wanting to relive the nightmare again so soon.

"What happened?" Dean demanded.

"He was, he was there," Morgan stuttered and felt tears sting her eyes at the reminder of those evil red eyes, "I j-just, it was, he-," and suddenly the phone was ripped from her trembling hand.

"Dean," Sam growled, turning his back on her and walking into the kitchen, "give it a rest, she just woke up, I got this, when you get home we'll all talk, okay?" Sam implored, nodding after a brief pause, "Sounds good, we'll be here."

"Are Dean 'n Claire on their way?" Morgan asked when Sam tapped the screen with his knuckle.

"Yeah," Sam nodded, shoving his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants, "few hours outta Nigel now, turns out it was the daughter's ghost," he shrugged, actively trying to change the subject and regain the smile she'd had on her face, "Y'know he doesn't mean to sound so harsh, he's worried, 'n his sensitivity skills are, lacking."

Morgan offered Sam a small grin and he visibly sighed with relief, "I know, I just get flustered, I used to with my Mother too," she bit her lips together hard at the accidental comparison, fumbling to clarify, "I didn't mean, he's not, she was-"

"Morgan," Sam held up a hand to halt her stuttering, his expression kind and understanding, "I get it," with a curt nod and encouraging grin he pointed at the coffee maker, "mind startin' that?"

After her favorite breakfast of simply coffee and crisp bacon, they each took a shower and Sam gathered a large hamper of dirty clothes, stopping in Morgan's room on his way to the bunker's laundry.

"Whatcha got for the wash?" he asked after a quick rap on her open door.

"I can do it," Morgan shrugged at the pile of clothes in the corner of her room.

"Industrial sized washer 'n dryer," Sam scoffed, shaking the hamper back and forth, "Toss'em in."

"Hey, Sam?" Morgan crooned sweetly, shoving her clothes into the already full hamper.

"Yes, Morgan," he returned in a similar tone, just short of mocking.

"Can we try some more spells out?" she avoided ending her question with 'before Dean gets home'.

Sam's grimace was answer enough, but he set the hamper down and softened his voice, "Sweetie, I," he frowned sympathetically and shook his head, "let's take a break today, I just think yesterday took a lot out of you 'n the few times he's gotten into your dreams have seemed to be after one of those magic overdose headaches," pulling her disheartened face up with a finger under her chin, he smiled sadly at her, "Hey, I had a lot of fun yesterday with you, we'll do it again, I promise, but we went a little too far 'n I'd really like it if you gave yourself some time to recoup. Ok?"

"Ok," she mumbled unconvincingly, offering a small shrug trying to show him feigned indifference, though she felt completely disheartened and a little pang of anger at his refusal.

"A'right," Sam picked up the hamper and gave her a tentative sideways glance, "I'll be in the library after I start this if you wanna join me," pausing before exiting down the hall, "I promise, Morgan, just, do your big brother a favor 'n humor me, ok?"

"Yeah," she smiled a little at this approach, "ok. I'm almost done with Goblet of Fire, do you have that movie too?"

"All of 'em," he nodded happily, "I'll see y'in there."

Morgan finished straightening her blankets and pillow before plopping on the freshly made bed with a heavy sigh. She looked to the place where Lucifer had stood in her dream, his awful impersonation of her beloved oldest brother and felt her throat tighten, wishing Dean were there. His roughness was still startling sometimes, but Morgan somehow found solace in his harsh attitude. She hadn't meant to compare him to how her Mother had been, but allowing herself to think about it, Morgan admitted silently she'd never wanted anything more than her Mother's acceptance and praise, knowing the woman wasn't capable of love. Dean was strict and structured about rules and orders, but offered the love and protection Morgan desperately needed, despite her stubborn independence.

Hours later in the library, Sam and Morgan sat on opposite sides of the table with a plastic bowl of mixed fruit between them for lunch they were munching on absently. Morgan was in the first few enthralling pages of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix while Sam was peering at his computer screen with a large, old volume in his lap as constant reference. She'd asked him what he was doing, but the long technical response had gone over her head and she'd stared blankly at him for several long seconds before they'd both chuckled and went back to their separate distractions.

At the echoing sound of the distant garage door slamming, Morgan's wide eyes flew up at Sam, who smiled at her excitement. A short minute later, Dean and Claire walked into the open room, setting their duffel bags on the map table as Morgan hurried down the stairs.

"Hey, there's my girl," Dean smiled widely, bringing her into his arms immediately with a quick kiss on the top of her head, Morgan felt overwhelmingly complete in his embrace, "Didn't miss me did'ja?"

"Not at all," she smirked up at him before pulling away and addressing Claire, "Hi, good hunt?"

"Yeah," Claire nodded enthusiastically, "I got thrown like ten feet by a ghost!"

"Woah," Morgan shared her excitement with a shocked expression, but Dean cleared his throat roughly.

"Not how you describe a good hunt, Claire," he shook his head, trying to hide amusement, "How's your back after the ride, anyway?"

"Sore," Claire shrugged and at Morgan's curious look the blonde turned and lifted the back of her shirt, revealing a nasty blue and green bruise covering her lower back.

"Ouch," Morgan visibly winced, but brightened hopefully, "I can fix it! I found a buncha new spells 'n I know there's a remedy for-"

"Morgan," Sam said with a little warning in his tone as he descended the stairs, "Not today."

"But, Sam," Morgan gave him a pleading look that was returned with a single raised eyebrow, she turned to Dean as he looked quizzically at Sam, but shook his head at Morgan in blind solidarity to his brother.

"Seriously," Claire scoffed, "let'er, my back's killin' me."

"Cas is on the way over," Dean shrugged at Claire, "he'll getcha fixed up."

Morgan scowled at both her brothers individually, gaining nothing but stern expressions on either front, and stalked up the stairs to her book in a huff.

"Oh, good," Dean nodded, grabbing his duffel, "glad t'see the attitude's back," turning to the hall leading to their rooms he stopped and threw a warning over his shoulder as she sat roughly back at the library table, "Cut it out, Brat, 'r y'know whatcha got comin'."

She chanced a quick glare at Dean and ignored Sam's disapproving head shake as he followed the oldest out of sight. Claire, however, ascended the stairs with a sneer in their direction.

"What the hell's that about?" she eased into the arm chair, grabbed the decanter of scotch and poured a small glass.

"I got kinda sick yesterday after tryin' some new spells," Morgan shrugged, shutting the book on the table, "Sam's worried 'n wants me to 'take a break' today."

"Oh," Claire shrugged as if that was a reasonable request, but continued with a scoff, "but wha'd that mean, what Dean said?"

"Oh," Morgan rolled her eyes, shrugging nonchalantly, "he told me he'd spank me if-"

"What?!" Claire had nearly brought the crystal glass to her lips and sloshed a few drops on herself in the sudden outburst of disbelief.

"What?" Morgan asked quizzically.

"He can't do that!" Claire scoffed, sipping the liquid finally, producing a quick grimace before she continued in a slightly cracked version of her voice, "You're sixteen! That's like a little kid punishment, 'n he's not your dad," she rolled her eyes and took another, more prepared sip, before continuing, "although Dean seems to think he's everyone's dad sometimes, oh my God, Morgan, he was so bossy and annoying that whole trip."

She swallowed a pang of defensiveness at that comment, offering an understanding shrug, "I'm sure, he's always bossy," considering what Claire had just said, Morgan inclined her head at the blonde drinking her brother's scotch in the arm chair, "So, only little kids get spanked?"

"Clearly you never have since you're even okay using that word," Claire scoffed with a small blush rising in her cheeks, "Wha'd your Mom just ground you?"

Morgan glanced down, rubbing her fingers over the light raised lines on her arm, "Mother, no, she-" Morgan shook her head and simply extended her arms to Claire in explanation, seeing the horror on her pretty face as the older girl assessed the years of scars covering her fair skin.

"Shit," Claire said softly, "I'm really sorry."

Morgan shrugged, pulling her arms back across her stomach, "S'ok, I survived."

"Here," Claire offered the crystal glass of scotch to Morgan with a tempting smile, "try some."

Looking at the amber liquid, distorted through intricate glass patterns, she remembered Dean's quickly set rule against her drinking beer, but her experiences of happy numbness followed by alcohol consumption was enticing enough. Disregarding better judgement, Morgan took the glass and a small tentative sip. Shocked by the bitterness of the alcohol, Morgan almost spit it out, but forced herself to swallow and felt her throat burn. Coughing immediately followed and Claire giggled, sipping the glass again.

"You get used to it," she offered a worldly smile.

"I miss wine," Morgan scoffed with a weak voice, but enjoyed the immediate warmth rushing down to her stomach.

"Alright," Claire nodded with a smile, "I can get down with some wine."

"Yeah, if we had any," Morgan laughed and nodded towards the bedroom hallway, "and they're not gonna add it to the grocery list for us."

"You'd think with as much beer as those two suck down they'd be a little more lenient on underage drinking," Claire shook her head in frustration.

"I know!" Morgan implored and both girls giggled for a few minutes, passing the scotch glass between them.

After a third, rather full, shared glass, both girls were giggling wildly in the library. Morgan had told Claire the story about the boy Bryan she'd met on her one excursion into town with Dean and Claire was unsurprised, but completely indignant, to his reaction. Saying since she was of normal dating age there was no reason she shouldn't be allowed to go out with the handsome young man. The warm buzz in her head and Claire's confident tone convinced the young witch this older, and far more experienced, girl had to be right, clearly Dean didn't really understand how old she was.

At the sound of heavy boot steps getting closer, Morgan widened her eyes at Claire, who threw back the last sip and replaced the glass next to the decanter on the side table. They pretended to return to an innocent conversation as both Winchester men entered the open room, unfortunately neither could think of anything to say, and after a few moments of awkwardly staring at each other, both girls exploded into fits of giggles.

"Glad to see you two are getting along," Dean smirked, climbing the stairs to the library, Sam following right behind, "Morgan, can I talk to you for a few minutes?"

Nodding slowly at her brother and not meeting his eyes, Morgan stood up, immediately overcome with light-headedness and stumbled before slamming back in the chair. Claire tried to stifle a laugh with her hands and Morgan couldn't help but giggle at her unsteadiness. Sam and Dean, however, looked unamused.

"I told you to take a break today," Sam said sternly at his little sister, but Dean put the back of his hand on Sam's chest to halt his scolding.

"This isn't magic, Sammy," Dean growled, shifting his scowl to Claire, then the decanter of scotch and finally back to Morgan, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes, "We have a no drinking rule, don't we, little girl?"

"She's sixteen!" Claire shouted suddenly.

"You stay outta this!" Dean snapped at Claire, quickly returning to the dark-haired girl sitting under his threatening eyes, "Morgan?"

"You said no more beer," Morgan offered a joking smirk, clearly the wrong response as she was instantly hauled to her feet by a firm grip under her arm and Dean angrily marched her down the stairs towards their rooms without another word, "Deeaaan," she whined, her head too fuzzy to find any further argument, but unsuccessfully tried to pull herself out of his grasp.

"How d'you get drunk in twenty minutes?" Dean growled, "Better, yet, why?" she shrugged at him, hoping it was a rhetorical question, "Y'know you're lucky I'm beat, kid," in her overly confident state, Morgan scoffed at his hidden threat, he halted outside her bedroom door and turned her to look at him, "S'cuse me?"

"Claire said you can't spank me 'cause I'm too old," Morgan said matter-of-factly, staring at his matching green eyes with a challenging eyebrow raise.

"Oh, did she?" Dean scoffed, throwing the door open and turning Morgan towards her room, he landed a biting swat with a loud crack on her behind, making her practically jump over the threshold, "Lay down, sober up, I'll be back in two minutes with water and you better lose the attitude unless you want a whole lot more'a that."

Morgan stared with shocked, suddenly teary eyes at him, and threw herself face first on her bed with an angry growl. As promised, Dean returned with a cold glass of water and sat on her bed as she ignored him with her head turned stubbornly towards the wall.

"C'mon, drink this," his tone was much calmer, but clearly no-nonsense.

"I don't want it," Morgan mumbled into the crook of her right elbow.

With a heavy sigh, Dean set the glass on her nightstand, "This isn't how I imagined comin' home tonight, kid," she shrugged indifferently, "I don't know if this is from your dream, or 'cause Sam told you to cool it with the magic experiments today, 'n I completely agree with him after hearing what happened by the way, or maybe Claire gotcha all riled up with that scotch, but I'm not toleratin' it. Talk to me, Morgan."

She responded again with a shrug and felt another sharp smack land on her behind. Whipping her head around she scowled at her brother and hurried herself into a seated position against the headboard, removing the easy target.

"Talk," he said sternly.

"Claire said only little kids get spanked!" Morgan implored much louder than intended.

"Talk," Dean growled, "don't yell at me. I don't care what Claire says, in this family you get treated like a little kid when you act like one, 'n you, Brat, have been dancin' that line for weeks. I'll be real clear on this Morgan, don't challenge me, you're gonna lose."

Again, the buzz in her head reacted without rational thought as an insolent scoff, complete with rolling eyes, escaped her lips. Dean's eyes narrowed, he shook his head slowly and stood to his full intimidating height.

"Ok," he clapped his hands together with an angry smirk, "I'll be back in a little while, drink the water, I'm not askin'," she offered a very small nod in response, hoping he'd leave faster if she agreed, and with a last disheartened head shake, Dean exited her room.

As the seconds ticked to minutes then into hours in the analog clock on her wall, Morgan sipped the cool water and felt regret weighing on her with every moment she became more sober. Claire had made so much sense in the library, but sitting on her bed, waiting for Dean's return, she wondered why she'd listened to the convincing blonde. Admittedly, the scotch had not helped and before taking that first sip she'd known she wasn't supposed to. Guilt combined into the swirl of remorse tumbling around in the pit of her stomach and she was almost relieved when the familiar rapping sounded on her door, immediately followed by Dean's entrance.

"How'ya doin'?" he asked gruffly, closing the door behind him and crossing his arms, nodding slightly at the empty glass on her nightstand.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, averting her eyes to her feet as she picked at stray threads on the toes of her socks.

"Good," Dean nodded, "for what?"

"Drinking," Morgan responded, glancing up at him through long eyelashes and seeing him crook his hand for a more detailed answer, she sighed, "and my attitude."

"Yeah, let's start there," Dean pulled the desk chair into the middle of the room and sat down, "C'mere Morgan," she stared at him, unmoving, her stomach twisting with guilt and nerves, "I don't wanna do this, but it's gonna be worse if I gotta come get you."

Slowly, she slid off the bed and shuffled to stand in front of her brother, even with him seated they were nearly eyelevel, but she kept hers fixed on the ground between their feet. He lightly pulled her chin to look at him, his face stern, but no longer angry.

"D'you know you screwed up?" she nodded as he kept gentle fingers gripped firmly on her chin, not allowing her to look away from him, "D'you know that Sam 'n I love 'n care about you 'n that's why we have rules?" again she nodded, a few tears already slipping down her cheeks from the awful remorseful feeling she couldn't shake, "D'you wanna lose this bratty attitude and be the awesome girl we know you are?" with one final, teary nod he released her chin, but took her hand, "Ok, let's go."

Dean gently pulled the thin girl over his lap, Morgan gasped in shock and her face immediately flushed to the indignity of the position, but her next sound was far louder as Dean's hand connected hard on her denim covered bottom. Another biting swat followed quickly and Morgan instinctively threw a hand back to block the on slaughter to her behind, but Dean easily held it to small of her back with his free hand, not skipping a beat.

"Deeeaaaan," Morgan cried, kicking her legs wildly, but stopped as soon as she felt his swats migrate to her upper thighs, "NOOOO! Pleeeaaaase, I'mmmmm ssssssorrryyyyyy!"

"You're gonna remember this, Morgan," Dean was calm, his hand descending steadily over and over as the girl squirming across his knee continued yelling loudly, "You keep lettin' your emotions get the better of you and I'm done takin' the attitude, I don't deserve it and neither does Sam," hearing those words, Morgan's guilt overwhelmed her as the pain in her backside increased with every solid smack, "you know the rules, you know why they're there, 'n I don't know why you keep pushin' me, but you've been warned enough," each of the last four words was emphasized with an extra hard swat to the undercurve of her bottom.

"NOOOOOO!" Morgan cried trying to push herself off his lap, but only managed to give him room to quickly unsnap her jeans and tear them down, securing her back across his knees in a moment.

She felt the heat of fresh humiliation rush to her face at this new vulnerability and couldn't believe how much protection her jeans had offered now that they were bunched uselessly around her ankles, the fire he created now quickly becoming an inferno. Dean maintained a steady tempo of punishing swats without further scolding, but his words kept echoing in her head, her brothers did not deserve the brunt of her attitude. An attitude she didn't even understand and hated feeling out of control of herself. As Dean's hand continued to fall on her thin cotton underwear and occasionally the bare tops of her thighs, Morgan cried because of embarrassment and the ever increasing pain, but mostly from guilt and anger at herself, knowing she deserved every bit of this punishment. Finally, her squirms ceased and she sobbed limply over his knee in full acceptance of having earned the position she was in, hoping she could redeem herself, terrified Dean would never look at her the same again.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry," Morgan wept quietly, barely noticing his hand had slowed, though the impact remained as intense.

With three final, biting smacks to each red-hot cheek, Dean stopped.

"I bet," he almost whispered, moving the recently punishing hand to her back, gently rubbing as her sobs continued to quake her small frame, "it's over, sweetie."

Morgan continued the sob as she felt Dean expertly flip her on his lap so her harshly reproved bottom was cradled between his knees and she buried her face in his chest. He held her close, rubbing her back up and down gently, but not attempting to hush her from the necessary emotional release.

"I'm so sorry," she cried when her tears had slowed and breathing calmed.

"Morgan," Dean pulled her chin up to look at him, "I forgive you, clean slate, kid, from here you do better and stop testin' me. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded meekly, looking tentatively up at him through damp, long eyelashes, "Dean?" he raised his eyebrows to show he was listening, "Do you, do you still love me?"

His expression broke with sadness and he squeezed his arms tightly around her, "More than you know, little girl, that's never gonna change."

With his reassuring response, Morgan felt a calm wash over her, releasing the remaining guilt and for the first time, she felt complete, cared for and loved. For a few minutes, she enjoyed Dean's hand rubbing gently up and down her back and the occasional comments he made about his confidence in her strength and goodness, feeling more and more assured she indeed had a clean slate. This was nothing like the beatings she'd experienced, often unmotivated, seemingly endless and never compassionate when they did, there had been no forgiveness, certainly no love.

"Hey," Dean broke the comfortable silence, "y'hungry?"

"Starving," Morgan smiled, gingerly shifting to set her feet on the floor.

"A'right, wash up 'n come in the kitchen when you're ready," Dean stood to his full height, holding a hand to the back of her neck, leaning in to kiss her forehead quickly before setting the chair under the desk and closing the door on his exit.

Abandoning the jeans, still around her ankles, she waited until she couldn't hear his heavy footsteps and pulled the chair from the desk in front of the sink, cautiously standing on top of it. Morgan eased her cotton underwear down, careful to avoid dragging the fabric over her tender skin and examined her bare behind in the mirror over the sink. The top was a pink hue that grew into an angry red where her cheeks curved into her upper thighs, which were also painfully hot. Morgan wondered if Dean knew he'd put most of his effort where she sits, then immediately realized that had most certainly been his intention and considered how long it would be before she could comfortably sit again.

A soft knock on the door startled her and she grabbed the back of the chair to keep from toppling off it, just as Sam entered. They locked eyes and he chuckled, averting his quickly to the floor as Morgan yanked her undies over her rump, wincing at the tingle of pain when the fabric made contact. Sam stuck out a hand to help her off the chair, shaking his head with a smile at the floor.

"Y'ok?" He asked, still looking at the ground as he handed her the sweatpants balled up on her dresser.

"Yeah," she mumbled, feeling fresh embarrassment flush her face, wincing as she pulled the sweats on as fast and tenderly as possible.

"How you feelin'?" he finally brought his eyes to hers again with a caring expression, "Besides your butt being on fire."

"Calm," she sighed and he chuckled.

"Yeah, I bet," Sam smiled down at her, "I know in the end it always helped me come back to earth, not fun gettin' there though."

She shook her head in agreeance and absently rubbed her sore bottom with both hands, feeling the heat radiating on her palms, it did nothing to alleviate the pain. Morgan could still hardly believe it was finished, just like that she was granted a fresh chance. It was far too easy, too good to be true that no one was holding lingering resentments. She was used to punishments being drawn out for days, weeks even sometimes, but again she reminded herself there was no comparison between her previous experiences and what Dean had just done.

"Sam?" she asked warily, "It's really just – over- that's it? No one's mad at me 'n I can just - try again?"

Sam's face broke in an expression of pain and sympathy, he pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly around the shoulders, "Yeah, sweetie, it's over, no one's mad at you 'n I know you're gonna do better. Right?" Morgan nodded into his chest, "That's my girl," and Sam planted a kiss on top of her head.

Despite the heat throbbing in her backside, Morgan felt completely cared for and more at peace than she could ever remember.

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Castiel, Claire and Dean were all in the kitchen when Morgan and Sam entered together. Claire looked up from Sam's laptop and gave Morgan a sad grimace, shooting a quick, unnoticed glare at Dean before returning her eyes to Morgan with defiant solidarity. Morgan, however, offered an embarrassed grin and shook her head slightly at the pretty young blonde, gaining an eyebrow knit expression in return. Castiel, as usual, stood awkwardly rigid as Dean leaned against the counter, sipping a beer, and conversing quietly.

"What smells good?" Sam asked, pulling a beer from the fridge and offering a can of pop to Morgan.

"Thanks," she took the cold drink, briefly wishing she were alone and could apply the coolness to the heat pulsing in her bottom.

"Taquitos," Dean shrugged, turning his attention back to Castiel, "So, you think he's got one?"

"Another bunch of burned out bodies were found in the area," Castiel confirmed in his gravelly voice, "but we haven't heard of a report of another in a few days."

"Lucifer?" Morgan asked timidly, shifting her eyes between the angel and her brother.

"I'm keeping a very close eye," Castiel nodded to Morgan with his attempt at reassurance before looking again at Dean, "Yes, we believe he's found a vessel."

Morgan felt her insides go as cold as the can in her hand, but looked up as a heavy arm laid across her shoulders with an encouraging shake from Sam, despite his effort at a grin, his eyes betrayed the concern he had at this new information. She leaned into him, feeling the need for physical support and silent emotional understanding, knowing Sam wouldn't refuse offering her either.

"Can I please know what's goin' on?" Claire asked in clear frustration from the table.

"No," Dean and Castiel responded together, neither looking at her, and Claire slouched over the laptop with a disgruntled growling sound.

"Bullshit," she muttered to herself, but Morgan saw Dean's head turn at the quiet comment.

"Y'know, Claire," he growled sternly, "you've caused enough trouble today, I'd just sit there 'n keep my mouth shut if I were you."

"Why y'gonna beat me too?" Claire sneered at him, Morgan's stomach twisted at the words and felt her face flush.

"Don't," Dean snapped firmly, "you have no idea what you're talkin' about."

"Like everyone didn't hear you," Claire scoffed and Morgan grimaced with embarrassment at the realization that Claire, Sam and probably even Castiel had heard her being punished by Dean, the blonde narrowed her eyes and spoke with a scornful tone, "hittin' your little sister like-"

"No!" Morgan yelled at Claire, stepping forward between the blonde and her brooding oldest brother, Claire reclined quickly with wide, shocked eyes, Morgan was even surprised by her visceral response, lowering her voice, "Dean didn't hurt me."

She felt Dean's strong presence step close as he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. Morgan glanced up at him and smiled meekly at the proud look he was giving her, glad there was no lingering resentments between them, feeling more secure in his promise of unconditional love.

"Is he close?" she asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

"It doesn't matter," Dean shook his head, but at her fearful brow raise he elaborated a bit, "probably, but he can't get in here, trust me on that."

Morgan nodded, affirming her trust in him, but concern still lingered heavily in the pit of her stomach.

"She and Rowena must start soon," Castiel said in his typical matter-of-fact tone, "hopefully he burns out this vessel shortly, but if he doesn't, we'll need all the power we can to extract him before sending him back."

"Yeah," Sam pushed off from his comfortable lean against the counter and stepped into the conversation, "we needa talk about that," after a quick glance at Morgan he returned to shifting his gaze between his brother and Castiel, "I'm not sure the original plan is safe."

Castiel's expression changed to angry shock, but Dean nodded his understanding at Sam. Morgan felt a pang of frustration, knowing exactly what his vague comment was in reference to and defensiveness instantly rose to the forefront of her emotions.

"We don't have another option," Castiel urged.

"We better find one," Dean nodded sideways as Castiel, who was completely beside himself.

"There's isn't one," Castiel implored loudly at the oldest Winchester, "Dean, she and Rowena together are the only chance we have of putting him back, Rowena couldn't do it alone and your sister is the most powerful witch in the world! What do you suggest we do if not use her?!"

"USE HER?!" Dean had Castiel by the front of his trench coat and against the kitchen wall in a moment, the angel's eyes wide in surprise, Dean seething in anger, "She is not a thing to be used! She's had enough of that and I'll be damned if I let it continue!"

"Me too," Sam put a hand on Morgan's shoulder and glowered at Castiel.

"Morgan," Castiel looked pleadingly at her over Dean's shoulder, but was quickly blocked with a shift in her oldest brother's broad back.

"Cas," Dean lowered the volume of his threatening tone, growling at the angel through gritted teeth, "I'm tellin' you to back off, we'll talk about this later."

"When I'm not around," Morgan said bitterly, effectively gaining Dean's attention and glancing at Sam's worried eyes, "right?" their silence was affirmation enough for her, feeling that terribly familiar tightening in the back of her throat as tears stung her eyes, she stepped away from Sam, facing both daunting brothers and managed to force her question through the shaky beginnings of sobs, "Does it even matter that I wanna help?"

Abandoning his hold on the angel's trench coat, Dean approached her, "Of course it does."

"Yeah, Morgan," Sam shook his head incredulously, "We love that you wannna help, but-"

"I'm not weak!" Morgan yelled.

"We know-" Sam tried.

"I'm not useless!" a bit louder than before.

"Morgan-" Sam pleaded, his face furrowed in a frown.

"I AM-"

"Walkin' headfirst into trouble you keep yellin'," Dean growled and Morgan immediately bit her lips together, feeling the warm throb in her bottom she'd somehow ignored in the chaotic last few minutes, he nodded at her quick compliance and continued, "we will talk about this, as a family, later."

"What is the other option, Dean?" Castiel suddenly asked angrily from behind the brothers, both of whom turned to the livid angel, "Sam, you know she is our only chance. Both of you need to remember that the fate of the entire world is at stake!"

"And why should it be on her?!" Dean barked.

Castiel inclined his head with an incredulous look and scoffed, "Because she's a Winchester."

Dean narrowed his eyes at the angel as if he was planning another attack, but suddenly grabbed his beer from the counter with an angry growl and stormed out of the kitchen. A few moments later the sound of shattering glass echoed through the halls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C'mon, hit the kudos button ;) y'know y'want to... 
> 
> Hope you're enjoying!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *I don't own Supernatural* 
> 
> With some new information brought to light the team realizes it's time to flee the bunker...
> 
> *Spanking Scene*

Castiel didn't loiter long after Dean's abrupt departure and Claire abandoned Sam's laptop for a plate of taquitos she took to her room, leaving the two younger Winchesters alone in the kitchen. For as empty as her stomach was, Morgan had effectively lost her appetite after the recent altercation and silently pushed a crisp, rolled tortilla around her plate as she leaned on the counter. Thankfully, Sam hadn't even suggested sitting at the table.

"Why can't I?" she suddenly looked directly at Sam, who was also neglecting his dinner.

He sighed, "Y'know how you've gotten pretty sick after pushin' too far lately?" Morgan shrugged in defiant admittance, "Thing is, kid, the magic in the Book of the Damned is way more advanced, not to mention dark, like really dark, 'n Rowena warned us there could be awful consequences if you push too far too fast."

"I can handle it," Morgan insisted.

"You don't know that," Sam shook his head sadly.

"I have to try," she pushed.

"But what if," Sam's question trailed off as he lowered his eyes, afraid to continue.

"What if what?" Morgan implored.

"What if it kills you?" a low growl came from the doorway and they both looked up as Dean stepped into the kitchen.

"It won't," the words were stupid even to her, she knew that was a real possibility.

"It could," he said firmly, "I'm not takin' that chance."

"But Cas is right," Morgan switched her attention to Sam, realizing she was gaining no ground with Dean, "we don't have another option."

"We'll find one," Sam tried to sound convincing, "we've had to before."

"No, listen-" frustration building, she tried a bit louder, but gasped as a mild swat quickly landed on her sore behind.

"The decision's been made, Morgan," Dean growled firmly.

She couldn't help a sob as her face instantly broke into tears and ran out of the kitchen towards her bedroom. Slamming her door behind her, Morgan landed face first on her bed and sobbed into her pillow. Lucifer was never going to stop chasing her, he was going to restart the apocalypse or worse, and her one chance at helping defend innocent people, not to mention herself, had just been squashed under the foot Dean had put down on the subject.

A soft knock tapped twice on her door.

"Yeah, Sam," Morgan sniffled, wincing a little as she pulled herself to an uncomfortable seated position and wiping her tears as Sam closed the door behind his entrance.

"Hey," he smiled weakly and gestured questioningly to her bed, "can we talk?"

She nodded in invitation for him to sit, mumbling bitterly, "Sure, but it doesn't matter what I say anyway."

"That's not true," Sam shook his head, taking a seat on the edge of her mattress, and put a hand on her leg, "but before you go off on how much y'wanna help, can you please hear me out?"

Morgan offered a reserved nod and leaned against her headboard.

"Thank you," Sam began, "look, I've tried to sacrifice myself for the world, and this family, gotten more than close too, so's Dean. It's kind of a, family trait I guess," he scoffed sadly, "but we've managed to save each other every time, there's another way, Morgan, there always is."

She looked up at him through long eyelashes, waiting for a small head nod from her brother.

"What's the other way?" Morgan's voice was calm and quiet, imploring her understanding brother for a real answer, not an arbitrary promise, "Sam, I want to believe you, but we all sat here for hours talkin' it over 'n this was the only option then, how isn't it now?"

"Because we see the realities of what pushin' your abilities means."

"But," she looked at him earnestly, "people are dying."

"Yeah," Sam nodded empathetically, "they always are."

A hard rapping sounded on the door just before Dean stuck his head in, "Can I c'min?"

"Dean-" Sam began to refuse.

"Yeah," Morgan nodded at Sam's surprised eyes.

"Morgan," Dean's normally hard expression was sullen as he approached his siblings and sat on the other side of her bed, "I'm sorry, I should've listened, 'm not sayin' it'll change how I feel, but I'm sorry I didn't give you the chance," he squeezed her hand, smiling a little when she didn't pull away, but his eyes betrayed damp grief, "I'm just terrified of losing you, kid."

At this honest admittance and Sam's agreeing head nod, fresh tears spilled down Morgan's cheeks. While selfishly thrilled at the love she'd found in her estranged family, she knew her happiness, her life, wasn't worth the entire world. Knowing she couldn't admit these feelings to her brothers, Morgan simply nodded sadly at them both, hoping to sufficiently calm their concerns. Wondering how much longer she could play their little sister before her world would inevitably come crashing down.

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The next few days passed uneventfully in the bunker while the young witch's mind swarmed with anger, hopelessness and guilt. Morgan didn't bother attempting any magic, even dishearteningly walking to the fridge when she wanted a drink. If her brothers noticed she was answering them minimally and not instigating conversations, they didn't say anything. She complained silently, trying to keep her expression as neutral as she could, not wanting to bring attention to the sadness she couldn't shake, but Claire realized there was a problem when she requested the fire dancer one boring night in the kitchen.

"I shouldn't," Morgan shrugged, returning to a slice of pizza and the halfway point of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

"Why?" Claire urged, pushing the laptop aside and focusing on the dark-haired girl across from her in the otherwise empty room.

Morgan's throat tightened and she pushed quickly away from the table and hurried out of the kitchen, narrowly avoiding colliding with Dean in the hallway. Quietly closing the door of her bedroom, she finally let the sobs wrack her tiny frame and fell on her bed. Lucifer was out there, he was killing people every day she sat in the safety of the bunker, unable to even try to help. She screamed into her pillow, catching a glance of her bare dresser where her Mother's spell books had been before being removed to a 'safer place' along with the Men of Letter's catalogs of incantations from the library. Her entire life, Morgan had been restricted, but never in magic, her abilities were the only thing she was always allowed to control, until now.

An expected, solid rapping sounded on her closed bedroom door, but Morgan wasn't done feeling bad for herself yet and did not reply. Unsurprisingly, she heard the door creak open a few moments later anyway.

"Morgan," the deep growl was soft and imploring, "Can I talk t'you?"

She shrugged into the pillow her arms were wrapped around, quietly crying with her face turned away from him.

"Sweetie," she felt his weight sink on the side of her bed, "I know y'r'mad at Sam 'n me."

Again, Morgan responded with nothing more than a quiet shaking of her shoulders and hidden tears.

"I really wish y'understood," he began and she quickly whipped herself to face him at the condescending words.

"I do understand," she snapped angrily at him, wiping tears from her cheeks and glaring at him with her damp green eyes, "y'r'too afraid lettin' me fight a fight that only I can is gonna kill me, but it's ok for the rest of the world to die!"

He narrowed his identical eyes at her and took a deep breath, "In the simplest and least accurate terms, yeah, pretty much, kid, look I'm not gonna sit here-" but what he wasn't going to sit there for was interrupted by several loud voices yelling down the hall.

Looking wide-eyed at each for a moment, Morgan and Dean both jumped off the bed and hurried to the door. He quickly turned on her, however, blocking her exit and pulling his gun from the back of his jeans.

"Stay in this room, Morgan," he said firmly, but when she didn't retreat her step Dean leaned towards her intimidatingly, "that's an order."

"Shocking," she scoffed meanly, but sat hard on her bed and crossed her arms as he shook his head and closed the door on his exit.

Morgan could hear the yelling increasing and a few moments later the low, angry bark told her Dean had found the source of the commotion. She fought with herself, putting her hand on the door handle before losing her nerve and retreating to the bed, several times she made the trip before finally getting up once more, resolved to find out what was happening. As she reached for the knob, however, her door opened from the other side and Sam tried to smile, his expression hiding stress and anger.

"What's up?" she asked as indifferently as possible, sitting on her bed as he closed the door entering her room.

"Cas, Crowley 'n Rowena have a," he scoffed and rolled his eyes, "they've come to ambush us with their opinions on the changes to the plan."

Morgan couldn't help a small indignant smile, not that she really tried, despite the eyebrow raise from Sam.

"So," she shrugged at the towering man, "why y'tellin' me?"

"Cause y'r'involved Morgan," he crossed his arms and scowled impatiently, "I want you to talk to us, we've been tryin' to give you space the last few days, but it doesn't seem to be helping."

"Helping what?" she asked, her voice cracking with the threat of fresh tears, "You 'n y'r'brother've made me more useless than I've ever been! I can't do the one thing I'm good at, the one purpose I have you two've taken away from me! I never should've called you guys, at least Lucifer woulda found 'n killed me fast enough I wouldn't have to think about all the innocent people dyin' instead," she sobbed the last few words, trying to shrug off the strong arms wrapping around her, but she felt Sam hold her tighter and grudgingly stopped struggling.

"I hope you don't really think that," Sam said softly when he finally released her, but held her by the shoulders in front of himself, "Morgan, we just wanna keep you safe, Dean 'n I-"

"No! You stay the hell there!" her door flew open and slammed as quickly Dean yelled the threatening order.

The younger two turned to their seething older brother, Morgan tried to pull from Sam in the distraction, but he gripped her shoulders tighter feeling her wrenching away. Helpless and out of control, she sobbed brokenly, her shoulders shaking in his grasp.

"Morgan, I need'ja t'hold it together right now," Dean growled, but before she could respond with more tears Sam released her and whipped around at the oldest Winchester.

"Back off, Dean," Sam barked, "we did this," at Dean's confused expression, Sam continued, "we told her she could help, they told her she was the only chance we had at takin' Lucifer down and then we decided she couldn't be involved whether she wants to or not."

"And you agreed!" Dean implored angrily.

"But she didn't!" Sam challenged, "She's had things taken away her entire life without having a say and here we're doin' it to her again!"

"Lucifer?!" Dean yelled with disbelief, peering passed Sam at Morgan, "We're takin' away what? The chance to not get liquefied by the devil?!"

Morgan didn't answer and just wiped subsiding tears from her cheeks, averting her eyes from his glare.

"Dean," Sam said in a quieter tone, "I know all you and I want is to keep her safe, but the fact that he's out there, killin' people and lookin' for her is eatin' her up inside. Maybe there's a way for her to help and not put herself in some, fatal magic overexertion."

"No, Sam," Dean shook his head, "we talked about this, you 'n I decided-"

"Exactly!" Sam pled, "We decided, 'n she hasn't even talked t'us since then," with her eyes on her feet, Morgan felt them both look at her, "I don't know about you, man, but I'm willin' to give her a chance to prove herself if it means my sister will talk t'me again."

Dean shifted his angry, shocked eyes from Sam to Morgan and back, "Really?! So I'm the only one on the side of keepin' her alive?!"

"Of course not, Dean," Sam sighed.

"Y'sure?" Dean scoffed, "Cause it feels like she's tryin' to barrel headfirst to her death 'n y'r'cheerin' her on!"

"You don't know it's gonna kill me!" Morgan suddenly joined the conversation with a tone matching Dean's, "You don't! But he is killing real, actual people right now! I'm the only one who can help stop him but you won't let me!"

"Cause I don't wanna lose you!" Dean yelled down at the girl who was standing toe to toe with him.

"But other people can die?!" she cried, thinking of the burned bodies in Lucifer's wake.

"Other people aren't my baby sister!" he was still yelling, but his tone was almost pleading now, "Why does it always have to be our family that makes sacrifices for the rest of the world?!"

For a few moments they were all awkwardly quiet as the question settled around them. Morgan shifted her eyes up at her oldest brother, still towering over her just a few inches away, but the anger from a minute ago had been replaced with pain. A single tear slipped down his cheek, quickly brushed away, but Morgan felt her stomach turn with guilt at the honest expression of feelings towards her and worse at her deep understanding of not being able to live with herself if she didn't step up.

"I don't wanna die," Morgan said quietly to Dean before turning to Sam, "I don't. I'll do everything I can to make sure that I don't, but my life is not worth the dozens of people who are already dead and certainly not the world. I have to try."

Dean's face was stone, but Sam nodded understandingly before taking a deep sigh and addressing his brother, "Look, maybe we let'er try somethin' from the book, obviously not the sending Lucifer back thing, but maybe, y'know, something lighter."

"Lighter?" Dean smirked, "In the Book of the freakin' Damned? The same book that removed The Mark and released The Darkness?"

"Which turned out to be a good thing," Sam implored, but put his hands up defensively at Dean's widening eyes, "eventually."

"Dean," Morgan gained his attention quietly, "please."

With a very heavy sigh that ended in a growl, Dean threw his hands in the air, "Well, let's go see what the low-calorie side of universe shifting magic looks like," leaving the door open on his exit without formal invitation to either to follow.

In the library, Rowena paced along a bookshelf, occasionally stopping to read a spine before slapping it with frustration, Crowley had found his arm chair and glass of scotch, interested in the scene before him as Castiel was standing with his arms crossed awkwardly in front of Claire who sat at a table pretending not to notice him as she flipped a page. Dean, Morgan and Sam trudged up the stairs silently, as the angel attempted another stern command at the blonde who was actively ignoring him with a small grin on her face.

"Claire, you can't be here right now," he said matter-of-factly, "please go to your room. It is not a punishment-"

"Yeah, cause y'can't," she finally snapped her head up at him and quickly turned back to the book, that was instantly snapped shut and slid away from her by Dean.

"Claire, go to your room," he growled, meeting her challenging glare with a nostril flaring glower.

"Why?" Morgan asked, bringing every set of eyes in the room on her in the same moment, "Seriously, she wants to learn this crap, she's just gonna get pissed off and piss you guys off if y'don't at least let her listen. Who's she gonna tell?"

Claire nodded with a small smile of solidarity at Morgan, Dean looked at his sister, then Claire, then Castiel, a sideways glance at Sam and finally set his eyes back on the defiant little witch, "C'mere, I need'a word with you," at his head nod towards the stairs Morgan's stomach turned and her recently restored backside tingled, but she followed him into the hallway and all the way to the kitchen.

He flipped a chair from the table around and pointed firmly at it as he leaned on the counter, "Sit," which she did quickly, and he crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at her, "Who's the head of this family?"

"You," she mumbled after glancing up at his waiting expression and realized he wanted a response.

"Now you wanna argue with me on your own accord about your place in this mess, in private, I can respect that, I've been there," he nodded, but then lowered his tone and said threateningly, "But don't you dare undermine me when I'm makin' a call, I don't care how you feel about it. Until it's just you, me 'n Sam you keep you keep whatever you have to say to y'r'self. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Morgan nodded, hoping this was the end of it.

"Ok, let's go," he jerked his head towards the opening to the hallway and she hurried towards it, not fast enough however as a hard, stinging smack landed in the middle of her behind, "watch y'r'self, Brat."

Morgan avoided Claire's eyes, along with everyone else's, on their return to the library, Castiel was still focused on the petulant blonde ignoring him at the table. Sam was being accosted by Rowena as she gestured angrily to the bookshelves.

"There's nothing here, Samuel!" the redheaded witch threw her arms up, "Not the simplest spell, the most mediocre potion, nothing for her to practice!"

"We'll talk about it," Sam growled, his palms raised defensively at her, doing nothing to calm her fiery anger, "just wait a minute."

"Claire," Dean barked as he landed on the top stair of the library, "I'm not askin' again or I'll just put'cha in there myself."

"You can't!" Claire snapped at him.

Faster than Morgan believed he could move, Dean stepped around the table and dragged Claire off her chair by a strong grip under her arm, pulling her out of the library despite the impressive fight she was putting up. At the bottom of the stairs, Claire managed to wretch her arm free of his grasp, but only briefly before Dean lost all patience. Bending quickly, his broad shoulder found her hip and with an arm firmly wrapped around her legs, he carried the indignant young woman down the hall over his shoulder as she pounded his back and screamed.

"You and Squirrel starting your own home for wayward girls huh Moose?" Crowley smirked, taking a sip of his glass.

"Shut up, Crowley," the tallest Winchester snapped, taking a large volume from Rowena and shoving it back on a shelf.

"My dear," Rowena abandoned the books with a haughty whip of her head away from Sam and focused on the younger witch, "you're being suffocated-"

"Rowena!" Sam barked, trying to interject himself between his sister and the older witch who'd grabbed both her hands in an empathetic embrace.

"You can't destroy her magic by starving it!" she cried dramatically as Morgan tried to pull her hands away, Rowena didn't seem to notice as she glowered at Sam.

"No one's trying to do that!" he grabbed Morgan's forearms and ripped her free of Rowena's grasp.

"Well what exactly are you and your brother trying to do to her, then?" the redhead asked indignantly, "You've removed every, single spell book from these shelves! Tell me you didn't take her Mother's from her too?" Sam's angry gaze faltered briefly in response, Rowena narrowed her eyes further and growled through gritted teeth, "All in the name of protecting her? From who? Herself? Perhaps, you and darling Dean are more concerned about protecting yourselves?"

"Shut up," Sam pointed firmly and growled at Rowena, "You don't know what you're talkin' about, we're lookin' out for her the only way we can-"

"By stifling her of the rare power she was given?" Rowena scoffed, "By sacrificing the good of the world?"

"You know what," Dean jogged up the stairs and approached Rowena quickly, "I don't give a crap about your opinion."

"Dean," Castiel sighed, earning an angry glower from the oldest Winchester, "we need her-"

"Cas," Dean growled warningly.

"I must ask," Crowley quietly gained the rooms attention, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, "does the fact that everyone in this room has managed to not kill each other, despite our deeply rooted hate for one another, not show the gravity of the threat we're dealing with? No one more than I wishes this situation could be simply solved, it's not your kingdom he's trying to usurp," he sipped his scotch and raised his eyebrows at the group, "As it is, your sister is the only hope we have, you both know this, let's skip the always popular wishy washy Winchester decision making and get on with what we all know needs to be done, shall we?"

"Did you bring the book?" Sam asked Rowena, putting a hand over Dean's chest to stop his approach on the demon.

"Yes," she nodded snootily, "but not the Kodex."

"Well that's useless," Castiel scoffed as Rowena pulled a large, dark, ancient book from her bag and Morgan felt a chill in the stale air of the library.

"Take it or leave it," the older witch nearly sung her sarcastic words.

Morgan felt a strange angry pull towards the volume in Rowena's hands, blood pulsing in her ears, her fingers shaking with terrified anticipation and found herself slowly approaching the dark brown book. Dean's sudden hold on her arm stopped her procession and shook her from the strange trance, but the book still called to her.

"You hear it?" Rowena asked mysteriously and Morgan nodded mildly at her, "Come," she shook her brother's hand from her arm and held her breath as she got closer to the book Rowena laid on the table.

The older witch carefully opened the text and Morgan gazed on the intricate writings, symbols and bloody markings, stained on thin sheets of what looked like aged leather. Her hands couldn't stop reaching towards the enticing volume and the moment her finger tips connected to the corner of a page Morgan felt a surge of raging, fiery power. The unfamiliar language in front of her suddenly became more recognizable than English and found herself muttering a spell intended to extract a human soul from a living body. Fighting the awful pull, Morgan ripped her hands from the book and took several steps back from the table until she smacked into Dean. Without thinking she turned into his chest and shook with fear, clutching his shirt and finding very little comfort in his arms as they wrapped tightly around her.

"What is that?" she asked quietly, pulling away from Dean and staring warily at the dark volume on the table.

"You can read it?" Rowena asked accusingly, "How can you read it?"

Morgan shrugged at her, still staring with terrified eyes at the threatening book calling to her from the table, "I don't know," she mumbled to herself, finally looking at her brothers, both eyeing her with concern, and whispered, "that book is evil."

"We know," Dean nodded.

"This book," Rowena began arrogantly, "has made me a force of nature in the short time I've possessed it, this book should elevate your powers to where they need to be to defeat Lucifer. However," she lifted a finger at the group and closed the book with her other hand, "as I've said, this girl is destined to be more powerful than me and since I'm forced to help accelerate that, I want assurance from all of you I will no longer be on the Winchester hunting list once we've succeeded."

"Yeah, whatever," Dean growled, "everybody gets a pass on the cage Lucifer train. Morgan," he pulled her a little away from the rest of the group, nodding at Sam to follow, "what just happened?"

"I don't know," she shook her head up at both her brothers blocking the others from her view.

"What'd you feel?" Dean asked quietly.

"Rage," she nodded, "I can hear it, it's angry, it's so angry," Dean nodded as if he understood what she meant.

"How can you read it?" Sam inclined his head with narrow eyes.

"I don't know," she shrugged, "I couldn't I don't think until I touched it, but it's there's something in that paper that just like told me what it said, I don't know what happened."

"That's not paper," Dean mumbled, but continued at her confused expression, "it's pieces of human skin."

Morgan felt nausea hit the back of her throat and grimaced at them, she'd recognized the ink as blood, but the sheaths of dried, ancient human epidermis was unexpected.

"Morgan," Sam spoke, "you don't have t'do this, there's another way."

"No there's not," Crowley sang from behind the brothers.

"Shut up, Crowley," Sam and Dean barked together without turning around.

"I'll be ok," Morgan nodded, "I just wasn't, I wasn't ready for that. I know now, I'll be ok, really."

At her final reassurance, both brothers backed away looking unconvinced, but allowed her to return slowly to the book on the table.

"Is there something in there she can try, without unleashing detrimental forces of evil on the world?" Dean ground out bitterly.

Rowena giggled, "Sure, dear, we can start with the spell that turns rainbows into unicorns."

"Simple no woulda worked," he sneered at her sarcastic smile.

Morgan slowly pulled the cover open and felt the wrathful power shoot through her again, becoming more and more part of her with every corner she touched and page turned. This was a bitter confidence she'd never felt before and as much as it terrified her, Morgan was beginning to enjoy the feeling mixing with her own raw power. This was the darkest magic she'd ever seen, spells she knew even her Mother would never attempt, grazing her fingers over an incantation for boiling a man alive with his own stomach acid, followed immediately by a spell that forced tectonic plate shifts causing canyon creating earthquakes. The power to end the existence of the world was in her slightly shaking hands, continuing to slowly examine each page, she stopped at something familiar and glanced at Dean before reading through the spell. He nodded at the strange symbol she pointed at silently and understood this had been the incantation that saved him from a demonic soul and simultaneously released The Darkness into the world.

"How about this?" Morgan brought their attention to her and the page she was examining, "Reanimation," at Sam and Dean's identical confused expressions she elaborated, "bringing someone back from the dead."

"No zombies," Dean shook his head, but Sam shrugged at him.

"What's the harm?" he asked, "Seriously, man, she gets to try somethin' out in there 'n then we just kill it again. No harm no foul."

Dean nodded with grudging agreeance, "Yeah, I guess, it's not like were gonna find anything else less nasty in there, least we know where the Styne's got that crap from."

"You know the Styne's?" Morgan turned at the familiar name and both brother's jaws dropped at her.

"You know the Stynes?" Dean asked in shock.

"My Mother knew them," she nodded, remembering the mean, boisterous Southerners who'd occasionally visited throughout her youth, "I guess you could say they were friends, or as friendly as she could be with anyone, they're powerful and she always wanted to be with powerful people."

"Well they're all dead now," Dean shrugged.

Morgan's eyes widened at the new information, "How?" Dean smirked, "The whole psychotic bunch of them?" he nodded with a little hidden pride, "Good."

"So," Crowley set his glass on the table and stood, pulling his jacket by the lapels with a bored expression, "I'll grab us a stiff for her to practice on. Any preferences?"

"We can't perform the spell here," Rowena scoffed as if this was common knowledge, "the warding in this fortress is far too powerful for her to gain full effects of her own magic, let alone what the book can offer."

"So wait," Dean shook his head, "we've gotta take her out of the safest place she could be so she can practice with that book to be able to work a spell she probably won't even need since he'll jump on her the second we walk out that door! No! This is crazy! It has to be done here, I'm not chancing her out there with him on the hunt!"

"Dean," Castiel said softly, "I believe he can get here anyway, now that he has a vessel, he's been here before, the bunker might not be as impenetrable as we thought."

Silence engulfed the room and Morgan gasped after a few terrified moments, realizing she'd forgotten to breathe following his proclamation. Dean was seething at the angel and Sam looked sick.

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Claire sat with her arms crossed, angrily staring out the driver's side rear window of the Impala, Morgan next to her, behind Sam as Dean raced out of the cavern into the bright afternoon sun. It had taken less than ten minutes from Castiel's proclamation to get everyone's duffels packed and thrown into the warded vehicle before they'd raced away from the compromised bunker. Morgan had no idea where they were headed and only hoped the angel warding on their ribs and protections on the Impala would do what they were intended to, at least until they were ready for him to find them.

"So I just get dragged around wherever now?" Claire broke the silence bitterly, "Just a piece'a luggage you can throw around?"

"My luggage doesn't talk back," Dean growled into the rearview mirror, but missed the rude hand gesture Claire held behind his seat.

"Where are we goin'?" Morgan asked, trying to break the awkward tension.

"I don't know," Dean sighed, "somewhere he wouldn't think we'd be, we gotta lay low."

"Mother always said cities were best to hide," she said more to herself than anyone else, but her brothers gave each other identical sideways glances at the words.

"Five hours t'Denver," Dean shrugged.

"Ever seen the mountains, Morgan?" Sam turned in his seat and she shook her head, "Colorado it is."

"Good," Claire smiled secretively at Morgan, squeezing her fingers together and putting them to her lips, she giggled at the younger girl's confused expression.

"Claire," Dean growled in the rearview mirror, "don't even think about it."

"Dude, it's legal there," she implored with frustration, "I can do it if I want to."

"Yeah, if y'wanna get your ass beat," he shot back.

"I'm not your little sister, Dean!" Claire yelled indignantly and the Impala suddenly slowed to the side of the road.

"Let me make myself perfectly clear," Dean barked, turning in the front seat as Claire leaned as far back against the leather as she could, "for as long as I've gotta deal with you, you follow the same rules and get the same consequences as she does. Understood?"

"You don't have to deal with me!" Claire grabbed the handle and kicked the back door open, "I'm an adult! I didn't ask to be here!"

Dean pushed his own door open, stalking angrily towards the blonde pulling hard on his locked trunk.

"Get back in the car, Claire," he ground out calmly.

"Screw you!" she screamed at him, "You can't make me do anything!"

"Wanna make a bet?" Dean growled, but was unprepared for the hard punch to his gut before Claire abandoned her things in the trunk and bolted down the road.

Her escape was short lived before Dean caught up and wrapped a strong arm around her waist, hauling her helplessly back to the black sedan parked on the side of the empty country road. He passed both open doors, however, and sat on the massive hood, pulling the angry young woman over knee. Sam and Morgan watched through the windshield as his large hand descended repeatedly while Claire screamed, kicked and called him names that made the younger girl blush. She was sure he was spanking Claire harder than he'd spanked her, but she also hadn't lost the protection of her jeans, not that they seemed to be helping much as tears started streaming down the blonde's pretty face. Her angry screams eventually became pleas and promises as her legs stopped flailing and Dean's hand slowed its continual rain of stinging swats. Finally, he pulled her up and stood the crying young woman in front of him, holding her firmly by the shoulders, reprimanding her in a low, scolding tone.

"You're not goin' out on your own to kill yourself," his tone was stern, but laced with concern, "you can hate me all y'like, but until you grow up and act like the adult you say you are I'm in charge. Are we clear?"

Claire nodded, tears pouring down her face, biting back more sobs.

"Git'in the car," he jerked his head back and Claire nearly ran to the rear driver's seat, sitting gingerly on the leather and averting her eyes from Morgan and Sam, both of whom were still staring at the floor, as they had been during the altercation.

Dean landed hard in the driver's seat, shutting his door hard and turning the engine back over with an angry growl. He accelerated away from the shoulder and Morgan caught a grimace on Claire's flushed face as they slid back a bit on the smooth leather. She couldn't imagine having to sit for another few hours after a spanking from Dean and felt bad for the pretty blonde wiping tears from her face as she looked sadly out the window.

The next several hundred miles were almost entirely silent as Morgan continued her expedition into the Department of Mysteries with Harry Potter and his wizard friends, noticing Claire occasionally shifting her weight with a pained expression. One of Sam's long fingers tapped on the open pages and she glanced up at him turned in the front seat, silently he pointed out the windshield and Morgan slowly closed her book, staring wide-eyed out the large window. Ahead were huge pointed masses of earth, stretching through and above the hazy clouds in the setting sun, she couldn't believe what she was seeing, having spent her entire life in flatlands, the mountains were astonishing. She found herself leaning over the front seat between her brothers to get a better look through the windshield, gaping in amazement at the natural beauty growing larger as Dean pushed the Impala faster down the dusty road.

"Oh my God," she breathed.

"He prefers Chuck, actually," Sam chuckled at her blank expression.

"A'right," Dean nodded, pushing the accelerator harder, "let's get our Walking Dead on, we'll have Cas and the misfit gang meet us at the nearest cemetery."

"Dude," Sam sighed with exhaustion, "can we just break into the morgue later? I really don't wanna dig up a grave tonight."

"Yeah, that works," Dean shrugged.

"You guys know I can raise a coffin in like two seconds right?" Morgan giggled as her brothers shared a 'good to know' smirk.

"This is seriously the weirdest family ever," Claire mumbled and shifted herself on the backseat.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really suck at chapter summaries, a lot of shit has happened and more is about to- if you're a fan of Supernatural I'd love to know what you think of my character portrayals, this story has basically been my way of rewriting season 12 (not that I didn't like season 12) Oh and because I haven't mentioned it yet- Jared doing a keg stand on Conan was the best part of my week, possibly my life hahahaha

Morgan had spent a lot of her life in Chicago, but Denver was nothing like what she was used to as they pulled passed the welcome sign and down the main street. Every few blocks, some stores had the same green pointed leaf on the door, what she assumed to be the local flag or sporting team she'd unsurprisingly never heard of, but a strange billboard with the same symbol caught her eye and she couldn't help her question.

"Sam?" asking the brother she more often gained straight answers from.

"Yeah, sweetie?" he turned a bit to show he was listening.

"How can a candy bar ruin a good time?" she reread the sign's words exactly as they passed it.

Sam scoffed in amusement and glanced at Dean.

"Don't worry about it," Dean growled and Sam smirked at him.

"Yeah," Claire sneered, "heaven forbid you guys treat her like she's over five."

"Claire," Dean said warningly and the blonde immediately crossed her arms and looked haughtily out the window.

"Y'know what alcohol does, obviously," Sam said to Morgan, ignoring the brief break in their conversation as well as Dean's glare at him as he began an explanation, "some people prefer this plant and it kinda does the same thing."

"It's so not the same thing," Claire shook her head at Morgan, earning narrowed eyes from Sam.

"Hey, pothead," Dean barked, "shut it."

A few minutes later, the Impala grumbled into the parking lot of Mountain Side Lodging, which was not located anywhere near the side of a mountain to Morgan's great disappointment. They did, however, get an entire cabin to themselves instead of a shared room with two beds. The quaint log building looked like a real house inside with a living room, television and kitchen in the front room, two bedrooms each with two large beds and a clean bathroom with a separate shower and tub. Morgan smiled, exiting the room she and Claire were sharing after tossing her duffel on the bed, Claire had thrown herself face first on the other and asked her to close the door on her way out.

"Ok," Dean tapped his phone screen, shoving it back in his pocket, "They're on their way here now. Anybody else starving?"

"Hey, before we go anywhere else," Sam began, "we gotta ward this room."

Dean nodded, eyeing his sister, "Whatcha got?"

"Nothin'," she shrugged bitterly, "you guys took all my books."

"I got'em," Sam stated, "which one d'you need?"

Hiding her glare quickly she avoided saying 'all of them', "The dark purple one with a valknut on it," both brothers stared blankly at her, "it looks like a bunch'a triangles," at the simpler explanation Sam nodded and left for the other bedroom, returning a few moments later with the book described.

"So, probably an outer warning line so we know if anyone's coming," Dean nodded in agreement at her as Morgan flipped through the 'Suscipiet' section for other ideas, trying to remember what her Mother had always used, "I could use a confusion charm?"

"Like in Harry Potter, what they used to make muggles stay away from Hogwarts?" Sam asked excitedly.

"And the quidditch world cup," Morgan nodded, sharing his enthusiasm.

Dean shook his head at them both, "You guys are dorks."

"Says the guy who obsessively organizes his porn collection," Sam shot back, but flushed a little at Morgan's obviously confused expression.

"Wha-"

"Nope, not talkin' about that," Dean shook his head, interrupting her pending question and shooting a glare at Sam, "Hey, uh, what about that fire thing you did?"

She looked nervously up at him through long eyelashes, "It's one of the more effective ones."

"Anyway to do it so we don't get burned?" he asked, inclining his head at her.

"Yeah," she nodded eagerly, "if you're in contact with the magic when I do it you're fine," again they stared blankly at her, "you just have to hold onto my arm or something when I put it up and you can go through it unaffected."

"Ok, let's get goin' on this," Dean clapped his hands together, "I gotta eat. Claire, c'mere!"

The door to the girls' room didn't open, nor did any sound come from the other side.

"Claire!" Dean barked louder, "We need you out here for two minutes and then you're welcome to go back to your sulking, let's go!"

"I'll get her," Sam offered and took a step towards the door.

"Sam, no," Dean shook his head and the taller brother stopped in his tracks, watching the oldest warily, "I'm gonna count to three Claire and it I have to come get you you're not gonna like it," Dean's threat made the younger two stare at each other with wide, scared eyes, "One!" the door did not open, but Dean was undeterred, "TWO!" just as he took a step and prepared to yell the final number, the door flew open and the angry blonde stalked, heavy footed into the main room.

"What?" she ground out bitterly.

"Morgan's putting up some protection spells," he said calmly, "you need to do what she says so they don't work against you."

Claire was less averse to being told to listen to the younger girl and shrugged, turning to Morgan, "What'd I need to do?"

"Just hold onto me," Morgan smiled encouragingly, gaining a small grin in return from the disheartened, pretty young woman.

The fire line only took a minute and the moment Morgan said she could do the rest alone, Claire stalked angrily back to the room and slammed the door. She felt a pang of sadness for the older girl, knowing the physical discomfort she must be in, but not quite understanding her need to continue the fight. While Dean drew their usual protection symbols inside, Sam supervised as she walked the perimeter outside the cabin several times for both the warning line and the confusion charm, the latter was exceptionally exciting to both of them, allowing a natural sedge way into exactly how far into the Harry Potter series she'd gotten.

"Wow, so you're almost done with five?" Sam was more astonished than questioning as they sat on the front porch steps of the cabin in the cool fall dusk, safely inside the layers of protection, "What'd think so far?"

"I love the story," Morgan nodded, "I think it's awesome that Harry finally got a family with Sirius, he's way better than the Dursley's."

Sam nodded slowly, "So, they just got into the Department of Mysteries?"

"Yeah finally," she scoffed, "he just saw Sirius getting' tortured by Voldemort."

"That telepathy thing they've got goin' on is kinda freaky, huh?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, but kinda helpful too," Morgan shrugged, continuing at his inclined, slightly confused expression, "Mr. Weasely woulda died if he hadn't seen the snake attack, not to mention the stuff he's learned about Voldemort, that's gotta be useful, and now Sirius's attack, I don't know, we'll see."

"Guess I can't argue with y'there, by the way, that giant bag'a books has the last two in it, just in case we don't get home for a little while," Sam smiled, immediately returning the hug she offered.

"Thank you, Sam, I totally forgot," Morgan said excitedly, "I've never packed that fast in my life, well, y'know s'cept for that one time."

It was strangely relieving to share a short laugh in dark humor about the night they'd met. Just a few weeks had quickly become a lifetime and while her past memories would never fade, they seemed so much further away, almost in another life completely. Morgan couldn't imagine living without her brothers now, which made it all the more painful when an intrusive thought reminded her of the unknown course ahead.

The growl of the Impala grew louder as the headlights lit up the small road and Dean pulled the massive, black sedan in front of the cabin, Morgan could smell the warm take out before he even got out and she and Sam stood, following him up the steps into the cabin.

"So I think that confusion charm is a little too powerful," Dean chuckled, "there's a guy who's been tryin' to make it down this street since I left 'n just keeps making u-turns."

"Are Cas 'n them comin' here or are we meetin' them somewhere for zombiefest?" Sam asked while pulling to-go containers from the plastic bag on the table.

"We're gonna pow-wow here, get the plan together and hit up that graveyard we passed 'bout a mile back," cracked open two beers, handing one to Sam and setting a can of soda on the table, before glancing at the closed door of the girls' room, "Morgan could you let Claire know food's here, please?"

She nodded and quickly made her way to the room, preferring this option to a repeat of earlier. Claire was still laying on her stomach on the bed, her head turned away from the door and Morgan knew there was no way her backside still stung that much.

"Hey Claire," the younger girl said softly after shutting the door, "we got food, come eat with us."

"No thanks," she mumbled without moving.

"Y'sure?" Morgan urged, "It's tacos and they smell really good."

"I'm not hungry," the blonde said with a tone of finality and Morgan slowly left the room without another word.

"She's not hungry," she shrugged after closing the door on her return to the main room.

"Dude," Sam blocked Dean's quick advance towards the bedroom, "not worth it, she can be hungry if she wants to sit in there and pout."

With a sigh and quick nod, Dean retreated to his food and took a long swig of his beer, "I don't remember signin' up to be Mrs. Garrett."

Sam flipped on the television and the three of them moved their meals to the coffee table, enjoying a few moments to relax before the rest of their strangely assembled team arrived. Which was an episode and a half into a marathon about people who had the weirdest things they claimed to be addicted to, at first Morgan felt a strange pity and tried not to laugh at their ridiculousness. Thankfully both brothers seemed to be enjoying the sad interviews, like a middle-aged woman who claimed she had to count individual sheets of toilet paper in equal, perfect stacks before allowing herself to go to the bathroom, just as much as she was and the three laughed guiltlessly at their 'life crushing problems' until a solid knock on the door interrupted their insensitive fun.

"Wait," Morgan jumped off the couch, pushing in front of Sam quickly, "lemme take down the fire line," at Dean's call through the door to hold on, Morgan waved her hands and muttered the reverse incantation three times before nodding at him it was safe.

"This warding needs to come down right now!" Castiel implored in a whispered angry tone at Dean as soon as he burst through the door, but settled his eyes on Morgan, "we felt it the moment we pulled into town, take it down!"

Morgan whipped wide eyes at Dean whose identically confused gaze was no help.

"It's far too powerful," Crowley urged, roughly pulling a dazed Rowena over the threshold, "She's been muttering about a missed hair appointment for a quarter mile!"

"I must!" the redheaded witch pushed away from the stocky demon, gaining no ground, "Bernadette won't reschedule!"

"Lucifer will sense this and it won't work on him anyway," Castiel lowered his gaze at Dean, "have you warded the room with symbols?"

"Yeah, of course," Dean shrugged, "Cas what-"

"You must remove the warding spells now," the angel turned to the young witch and she took a step back from fright, bumping into Sam's large frame and finding an encouraging hand on her shoulder, "he'll feel this power even greater than I can, take it down!"

Morgan shifted her terrified gaze quickly to her oldest brother behind the angel and at his small nod she hurried out into the darkness, grabbing the spell book off the table on her way as Sam followed. It didn't take more than five minutes for them to walk the perimeter several times as she frantically performed the incantations to remove the warding the two had had so much fun putting up an hour before. On their reentrance to the cabin, Rowena was shaking her head at the kitchen table, Crowley poured her, as well as himself, a small drink from a flask he slipped back in the pocket of his coat and Castiel and Dean were having a quiet conversation near the television, still playing interviews people about off-the-wall addictions.

"Congratulations dearie," Rowena sneered with bitter admiration at the younger witch, "I haven't been confounded like that in many years."

"I'm sorry," Morgan shifted her eyes downward before returning her gaze to Rowena, "I didn't know."

"Yes, well," the older witch tossed her hair, hiding the break in her glowering expression, "hopefully, you took it down quickly enough he didn't notice."

"Why did it work on her 'n not you or Cas?" Sam asked the demon.

"That kind of magic works on souls, Feathers and I don't have to worry about that, neither does Lucifer, surprisingly, as deep, dark and charbroiled as it must be, Mother still has one, but those spells are only supposed to work within a few feet," Crowley shook his head, offering the dark-haired girl a smile underlined with respect, "you need to work on containing your power."

"Is that the first magic you've performed since you touched the book?" Rowena asked before Morgan could apologize or defend herself to the King of Hell and she nodded at the redhead sitting at the table, "Well that could be part of it," all eyes in the room were on Rowena and for a brief moment she enjoyed the attention with a smug smile, "The book has increased my powers exponentially, I can't imagine what mere contact will do to her. It can't possibly be a coincidence that she can read it either, boys she may be your sister, but her Mother was connected by power or blood to many of the greatest witches in history-"

"Not to mention a Norse god," Crowley interjected lightheartedly.

"Do you remember the time it took to decode that book, Samuel?" Rowena narrowed her eyes at the tallest, suddenly downtrodden, Winchester, "The sacrifice? How is it possible this girl simply touches the pages and she's fluent in Sister Agnes's crazy scribbles?"

"Sister Agnes, born March 1264, died October 1313 at the Vatican following prosecution," Morgan responded automatically at the name and flushed as every set of eyes slowly turned towards her.

"What?" Dean sputtered after several moments of silence, but she stared blankly at him, "Morgan, why do you know that? How do you know that?"

"Mother had, I had to memorize her, my, family tree," Morgan kept her eyes fixed on the spell book she was still clutching.

"You're related to Sister Agnes?" Sam's expression was completely shocked as she nodded at him.

"Like really distant, they were many separated generations of distant cousins," the nervous girl shrugged, wishing they would all stop staring at her, "I don't know anything about her, just that."

"There must be some sort of blood lock on the book," Rowena snapped her head at Crowley who was trying to look disinterested, sipping his small glass of liquor.

"Does it matter?" he asked, setting the glass on the table, "We all agree she's insanely powerful, it doesn't remotely surprise me that she's not only a Winchester and the descendant of a god, but also the great-great-great second cousin to the author of the Book of the Damned. Darling," he inclined his head at Morgan, "you are just a genetic lottery, aren't you? Though I'm not sure if you're the winner."

"Who else are you related to?" Castiel asked accusingly.

"I don't know," she shrugged, "I mean I know, but I don't know who's important, besides y'know like Merlin," at the silent, gaping shock from every direction, except Rowena's, the young witch urged, "C'mon, every witch is related to Merlin somehow."

A smug scoff and toss of red hair caught Morgan's attention as Rowena narrowed haughty eyes and spoke in a bitter tone, "Not all witches, no, as I was repeatedly reminded by the higher leaders of the Grand Coven, your Mother very much included," Morgan felt a guilty pang of understanding that Rowena was a victim of her Mother long before she was born, "Whether it was true or not," she continued, "your Mother claimed ties to many of the most powerful witches, wizards and warlocks in the history of magic."

"Again," Crowley sighed, "who cares? It's already dark, can we get this graveyard field trip underway? I hate fresh mountain air."

The older and younger witch sat together over the Book of the Damned for a little more than half an hour, reviewing the spell Morgan would soon be performing. Seeing the ingredient list, Morgan's heart had sunk, but Rowena silently tapped the list and Crowley had glanced quickly before nodding and suddenly disappeared from the room. Only moments later he returned, looking slightly disheveled, clutching a twig and vile of murky liquid.

"One branch from Noah's dove's olive tree," he sounded almost bored as he set the items on the table, "and a splash from the mouth of the Nile. Disgusting place right now Sudan, that better be enough."

"You're awesome," Morgan stared in shock at the demon who blinked in surprise before smiling at her.

"Perhaps you could tell your brothers that," he offered a smug grin to both older Winchesters.

"We still need blood from something you love," Rowena pointed again at the book, but sneered at Sam as she spoke, "just blood, not the heart and life source," Sam narrowed his eyes at her, but said nothing.

"Your turn, Squirrel," Crowley poured himself another drink from the flask, leaning against the small kitchen counter.

With a quick glare at Crowley's smug expression, Dean pulled a large knife from his pocket and quickly ran it across his forearm. Morgan expelled a pained gasp at the sudden action, looking away as his blood dripped into a bowl on the table. He wrapped a bandana around the cut and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," he said softly, getting her to peer up at him through long eyelashes, "I'm good, kid," he nodded encouragingly at her disheartened expression.

"Are we ready?" Castiel asked matter of factly.

"Yeah, just one thing," Dean patted Morgan's shoulder, turning to the still closed door of the girls' bedroom and rapping twice hard, "Hey, Claire?" pausing a moment, there was no response, "D'you wanna kill a zombie?" the door opened a few moments later and Claire averted her gaze from Dean after a quick nod, "Same rules as last hunt," he said firmly and she rolled her eyes, "S'cuse me?"

"Sorry," she mumbled to her feet, "Yeah, I remember y'r'rules."

While unsure if it was smart, Morgan was quite impressed by Claire's ability to maintain an air of insolence after all that had transpired between Dean and the young blonde that day.

After a quick repeated run through of the plan, to Crowley's obvious frustration, the Winchesters walked to the black Impala, but Claire silently sat in the passenger seat of Castiel's beige sedan. Dean shrugged at the angel with a mumble about how she can be his problem for a few minutes before dropping on the smooth leather behind the steering wheel. Turning the engine over with a loud growl, he led their short caravan to the nearby graveyard through the dark, empty outskirt roads.

"Morgan," Sam, who'd been quiet for the majority of the last hour, turned in the passenger seat and inclined his head at her, "who else can you remember on your Mother's family tree?"

"Everyone," she shrugged, "I memorized it," at Sam's eager expression she shook her head, "Um, Ursula Southeil, or Mother Shipton as she was more commonly known, uh, Merga Bien, Jacquetta of Luxemborg and Elizabeth Woodville, well Queen Elizabeth of York-"

"Queen?" Dean scoffed in the dark rearview mirror, "You're part of the royal family now too?"

"No, dude the Yorks lost the War of the Roses," Sam shook his head.

"What?" Dean stared in disbelief at his brother, Morgan eyed him with impressed shock.

"The Yorks and Lancasters fought over the crown of England, Queen Elizabeth of York and her mother Jacquetta were always suspected of witchcraft," Sam explained.

"So, the Lancasters won?" Dean's eyebrows were nearly touching in confusion.

"Kinda," Sam shrugged, "the Tudors actually."

"Well I'm lost," the oldest shook his head as Sam turned back to Morgan.

"I've never heard of Merga Bien. D'you know anything about her?" Sam's eyebrows were raised in interest at the young girl.

"It was always a lot of rumors, she was accused of killing her first two husbands," Morgan repeated the story she'd heard many times, "but it wasn't her, she was a witch, a mediocre one as my Mother assumed, but she had a child with a demon. She took the fall and no one was ever able to find Cambian."

"Cambian?" Dean asked but it seemed to be directed at Sam.

"That wasn't his name," Morgan clarified, "just what he was known as, y'know to those who knew about him."

"Like Jesse," Sam nodded at Dean.

"Who's Jesse?" Morgan whispered hastily with interest.

"This kid we met a few years ago," Dean answered, "same kinda thing, half human, half demon."

"What happened to him?" Morgan asked.

"We don't know," Sam shrugged.

"He disappeared," Dean finished, "Scary powerful, but actually a really nice kid."

"You sound surprised," Morgan scoffed good-naturedly in the backseat.

"Brat," Dean mumbled with a smile, pulling slowly through the entrance to the cemetery and passed a few darkened hills, away from any sign of a road, before stopping near older, more decrepit headstones, turning in the seat he attempted an encouraging smile weakly, "Y'ready kid?"

"Yeah," she breathed with as confident of a nod as she could muster and slid out of the back of the Impala into the cool fall air, pulling her new jacket closed to the slight breeze.

Rowena, Castiel and Claire were walking towards them, Crowley was leaning against an ancient headstone sipping straight from his flask. With a simple spread of Rowena's hands, the olive branch, vile of water and bowl of Dean's blood appeared next to a brown spell bowl on the ground. Morgan smirked at the older witch, offering a silently impressed commendation, Rowena returned it with a haughty eyebrow raise, the Book of the Damned clutch to her chest.

"So, which one are we bringing out to play?" Crowley asked impatiently, glancing at the name on the stone he was leaning against, "I vote for Mr. Haeger here, don't think he's had many visitors since his death in 1924, and well, what can I say, I'm a sucker for convenience," Morgan looked at Dean and shrugged, he nodded with an equally disinterested smirk, Crowley caught the quick exchange, "You must love having a little sister that actually cares about your opinion, certainly a welcome change from your other little sister."

Sam smirked at the demon, offering a rude hand gesture to which Crowley responded by licking his lips.

"For somebody who moves as fast as you and is whinin' about gettin' outta here you're sure takin' y'r'time gettin' outta my way," Morgan took a step forward as intimidating as she could, Crowley smiled at her and with a small bow, moved away from the chosen grave.

After encouraging glances from both brothers, Morgan stood at the foot of the grave site, concentrating hard through the soil, finding the rotted wooden box, she focused her attentions on the weight and pulled. As her hands slowly rose from her sides, equal to her shoulders and finally over her head reaching to the clear starry sky above, the ground immediately before her shook wildly. Waves of grass and soil tumbled onto still, unaffected ground next to a huge hole, digging itself from beneath the earth, until finally the last bits of ground fell away and a large, dirty casket floated above the perfectly rectangular patch of black. At a slow wave of her fingers, it drifted gently on top of the neighboring grave.

"Yeah," Sam chuckled, "I'm so never digging another grave again."

Morgan took a step towards the coffin, but a hand on her shoulder held her back and Dean approached the decomposing box first, Castiel and Sam closely behind him.

"Come, Dearie," Rowena crooned behind Morgan, beaconing her with a well-polished finger back towards the waiting spell ingredients, but Morgan shifted her gaze back to Dean without moving, the older witch called louder, gaining both the brothers attention as well, "Morgan, now!"

"Hey!" Dean barked warningly at the older witch, but quickly shifted to his sister, jerking his head towards Rowena, "Go."

Rowena scowled at her as she approached, "Do you ask his permission to use the bathroom too?"

"Shut up, bitch," before Morgan could retort, Claire stepped between her and older witch, "You would too if Dean Winchester was your brother."

Rowena was taken back by the sudden attack, lowering her gaze at the outspoken blonde, but a flicker to the ground quickly betrayed her admittance to the hypothetical situation. Morgan felt the awkward tension between them and gently pushed around Claire with a grin of appreciation before approaching Rowena. Without another word, the older witch tossed her red hair as she turned towards the spell ingredients lined perfectly on the ground. Following the redhead's silent gesture to kneel, Rowena set the Book of the Damned carefully in front of her, already opened to the correct incantation.

She could hear the whispers of the spells calling to her again and breathed in the angry confidence emanating from the pages, a feeling she'd almost missed in the time she'd been detached from the book. Allowing her fingertips to graze the bloody markings, that terribly wonderful feeling of raging power flowed through her once more and Morgan smiled to herself.

Once the plan had been run through again, shortly as there wasn't much to it, Morgan waited for Dean's nod as he, Sam and Claire stood around the coffin, weapons at the ready. Muttering the strangely familiar words, she crushed the branch in her hands, rubbing them together as pieces dropped into the brown bowl below, continuing to speak the ancient dialect, Morgan drizzled the water from the Nile River over the broken branch pieces and finally reached for the bowl of her brother's blood, feeling a stab of guilt as she followed suit with the sticky red liquid, pouring it over the mixture. Bowing her head respectfully over the combined ingredients, she lifted the bowl and stood, walking slowly to the newly opened casket and confidently spoke the final line of the incantation as she poured the concoction on the decaying chest of Mr. Haeger.

Morgan was not expecting the immediateness of the spell and gasped as the hollow eye sockets flew open, she couldn't move fast enough before a strong hand covered in rotted skin clamped around her arm. Another strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her away from the rising corpse, but the resolute grip on her arm wouldn't release and she thought it would break from the increasing pressure. Suddenly, her arm was free and she fell back on top of Dean, watching Sam and Claire continue to hack into the fighting corpse, limbs flying around the coffin. The carcass of Mr. Haeger was somehow still fighting, the remainders of his arms trying to reach them as his blackened teeth snarled animal like until, one well aimed machete slice from Sam sent his head flying out of the casket, bounced off a headstone and rolled a few feet in front of Morgan and Dean, teeth still gnashing, empty eye sockets boring at the girl who forced this torture.

"How do I make it stop?" Morgan cried at Rowena, tears stinging the backs of her eyes with the knowledge she'd raised this man from ultimate rest into complete agony.

"You don't make it stop," the older witch giggled and Morgan's stomach dropped, peering back at the skull snarling on the ground.

"What did I do?" she breathed quietly, shaking her head hard, wishing it was a terrible dream.

Dean's strong arms wrapped around her, holding her tighter when she tried to pull away, "Morgan, stop," he spoke softly, "y'did good kid."

"Good?!" she cried into his t-shirt, hearing the snapping teeth and roars or Mr. Haeger's head suddenly grow louder, but Dean held her head to his chest so she couldn't turn back to the grotesque skull.

It took several minutes for Morgan to compose herself, but Dean didn't move from the cold ground, keeping her close as she calmed down. By the time she wiped the tears from her eyes, the skull was gone and Castiel was ensuring the security of the lid on the coffin as it jumped and banged wildly. Rowena easily set the shaking box back in the hole and replaced the soil over it, muffling the pounding on the inside of the box until the grass was replaced perfectly and the graveyard was again silent.

"Hey," Claire smiled weakly, approaching Morgan as she and Dean finally stood, "Y'ok?" Morgan just shook her head sadly, "Yeah, that was messed up, but you did it, right?" she shrugged indifferently, "You did, and you didn't know what was gonna happen, you can't blame y'rself for that," finally gaining a weak smile from the dark-haired girl, Claire nodded encouragingly, "Y'r'pretty cool, y'know, for a witch."

"Thanks," Morgan smiled, "y'r'pretty cool too, y'know, for a bitch."

Claire laughed out loud and Morgan joined her, feeling slightly less guilty and enjoying the lighthearted jokes at each other's expense. She'd never had friends before, but as she and Claire giggled together in the graveyard, Morgan wondered if this was what it was like.

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Rowena and Castiel returned with Claire and the Winchesters to the cabin, Crowley had assumingly left during the struggle in the graveyard. For almost an hour, they sat and discussed the next course of action now that Morgan had strangely not had any ill effects from the extremely advanced magic she had just performed. She couldn't explain the sudden strength in her power, having never felt this confident in her own abilities before, but Rowena's theory, while nerve wracking, made sense. The Book of the Damned was transferring power to her with every touch. Dean's expression at this perceived knowledge was stone and he excused himself, beer in hand, for the front porch.

Morgan looked sadly after the swinging screen door, wanting to follow him, but not knowing what to say. A long yawn hit her suddenly and she shuddered with exhaustion.

"Hey, why don't y'get t'bed," Sam jerked his head at the closed girls' door behind which Claire was already sleeping.

"I'm ok," she shrugged, but Sam raised his eyebrows in an attempted warning that she averted her eyes from.

"Morgan," he began sternly, "it's really late, go get some sleep."

"Sam-" she whined.

"Morgan!" Dean's deep bark echoed through the screen door from wherever he was on the front porch, "Bed, now!"

She jumped from her chair, her face flushing instantly, as Sam shook his head with an amused smirk and opened his arms for a hug.

"Good night, Brat," he said holding her close for a moment, "Y'did great today."

"Thanks, Sam," she kissed his cheek quickly before turning to the bedroom she was sharing with Claire and slipping in quietly.

For as much exhaustion as she felt in her body, Morgan's mind wouldn't stop flashing images of Mr. Haeger's corpse flailing and gnawing in pieces, the coffin still shaking with pained rage under six feet of soil. Trying to tear her thoughts from the events of the last couple hours she suddenly noticed how thin the cabin's walls were, and in the silence of the dark bedroom she could just hear the faint voices of her brothers, the witch and the angel sitting at the table outside the door.

"I don't like this," she heard Dean's low growl, "like, I don't like this more than I already didn't like it."

"Dean, she did well," Castiel responded.

"Yeah," Sam began, "but I'm kinda with Dean here, I mean, over the last few weeks we've seen her go into fits after a spell that's too advanced, and what she did tonight," she heard him sigh, "a week ago, what she did tonight, that woulda put her down for a day," Morgan's throat tightened listening to Sam's truthful words, "there's no reason, besides the book, for her to get this sudden increase in power."

"Of course it's increased her power," Rowena crooned almost proudly, "she's already an unnaturally powerful witch and as we've learned she's shares blood with these pages. For what it's done for me I can't imagine what it is for her."

"No," Dean snapped in a low firm tone, "you can't, but I can. I know what that book feels like when you're connected to it."

"It may not be the same connection, Dean," Castiel tried to reason, "The Mark was a curse."

"But Charlie said Sister Agnes locked herself away and wrote this after a vision of darkness," Sam interjected, "I mean, that has to mean something, right?"

"Do you think she has true darkness in her?" Castiel asked flatly and Morgan's stomach twisted.

"No," Dean nearly scoffed, "but I don't wanna plant that seed with this psychotic piece a crap book."

"I agree," Sam offered, "Did you see her reaction in the graveyard? She feels pain for others, for monsters, that girl is all goodness. I don't, we don't, want her to lose that."

"I really hate to break this to you, boys," Rowena spoke, "while she's small for her age and adorably naïve, yes, thanks to years of malnourishment and being kept from the world, but she is not a little girl. Her powers are gaining, fast, and while she may be your little sister, she will live hundreds of years after you both die. She will become cold and bitter, like me, like her Mother, and you can try to slow it down all you like, clearly you have a strong hold on her, for now, but there is absolutely no way that girl is coming out of this unscathed."

Morgan felt hot tears pouring down her face as she silently listened as hard as she could to the muffled voices in the kitchen. Rowena was right. She'd felt an urge to touch the book since the first time she'd stopped, it had been terrifying, amazing, awful and wonderful. Power she never knew before, power she now craved. The seed had already been planted, she was trying to fight the roots she felt starting to grow.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *SPANKING SCENE* 
> 
> Crowley's in trouble and Morgan insists they help him, disregarding the rules in the process...

When Morgan finally yawned her way into the kitchen in the early afternoon, Rowena and Castiel had gone and Dean, Sam and Claire were relaxing in front of the television, though no one seemed to be watching it.

"Hey, rise 'n shine sleepy head," Dean smiled as she shuffled to the bathroom.

"Do you two ever sleep?" she scoffed at her brothers.

"I wish," Sam chuckled.

"Hey," Dean stopped her before she shut the door, "hurry up, we're checkin' out 'n gettin' lunch."

She nodded and quickly slipped in the bathroom, showering fast after a loud growl from her empty stomach. Morgan dressed quickly in the girls' bedroom, wondering where they were going next as she tossed her clothes in her old duffel bag and exited for the main room. Dean was walking back in from the front porch and reached for her bag, nodding to door.

"Let's go, I'm starvin'," he held the door for her, the green duffel in the other.

"Y'r'always starvin'," she laughed, jumping down the porch steps to the rear door Sam was holding open and slid into the backseat next to Claire.

While Dean still seemed unhappy about it, Sam and Claire had apparently convinced him to move their group somewhere closer to the city. Sam reasoned again to his brother that being in a more populated area was the best way to hide, Dean grudgingly agreed, despite his obvious hatred for congested areas. Claire nudged Morgan quietly and gave her a secretive smile and eyebrow raise that the younger girl did not understand, but grinned back pretending she did.

Lunch was quick, Dean made Morgan nervous as he constantly checked around the restaurant, but thankfully their meal was uneventful. Except for the waitress's clear interest in Sam, seeing him glance at her with a shy smile the few times she made a flirting comment was so unlike Dean's reaction to that situation.

"Sammy," Dean shook his head with a smile as the got back in the Impala, "she was hot, shoulda got that number," Sam smirked at him and held a folded paper coaster between his fingers, to which Dean threw his head back with a quick laugh, "that's my boy."

"You guys are pigs," Claire scoffed.

"Don't be jealous, Claire," Dean chuckled, "Maybe there'll be a guy waitress at the next stop."

"Pretty sure they call them waiters," Sam shook his head at his brother.

"Whatever," Claire shrugged and slumped into the backseat, turning to Morgan, "So, what'd you think that Bryan guy's doing?"

Morgan caught Dean's head jerk in the corner of her eye as he stared in the rearview mirror, she shrugged at the blonde, "I don't know. I just met him that one day."

"But he was really cute right?" Claire encouraged.

"Uh, I guess, yeah," Morgan mumbled with a small nod, her face flushed, feeling Dean's eyes in the reflection.

"Well maybe when we get back-" the blonde began.

"Claire," Dean growled, "I know what y'r'doin', stop it."

"Stop what?" she asked innocently.

"Pokin' the bear," Sam turned in his seat at the young women.

"So, you two can go out and sleep with whoever you want, but she can't even go on a date?" Claire sneered into the rearview mirror.

"Claire," Sam sighed, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder to stop the barking retort he was preparing, "you don't understand what's after her right now, I know we haven't told you much, it's kinda a need t'know thing, we're lettin' you help where you can, but this is not your fight, and she is not a typical sixteen-year-old girl," pointing to Morgan, the young witch felt her stomach twist a little at his words, as factual as they were, "I'm not takin' a chance she's gonna get hurt so you can double date to the movies."

Claire was staring at her hands, occasionally glancing up at Sam with a saddened expression before locking eyes with Morgan and offered a small apologetic smirk. She shook her head at the blonde in acceptance, Claire was almost completely in the dark about Lucifer, she couldn't blame her for not understanding why Morgan was under such heavy protection. Although the younger girl had a strange feeling the older one was almost enjoying baiting her brothers, despite the punishment she'd already received the day before.

The Impala growled into a spot in the half full parking lot of a large five story hotel, a building that had clearly seen better days. Dean and Sam pushed their doors open and the girls followed, taking their bags as Dean pulled them out of the trunk and followed his lead to the glass double doors. A plump woman behind the counter smiled as they walked up.

"Hi," she squeaked in a happy, high pitched voice, "Welcome, how can I help you?"

"Hi ma'am," Dean smiled, and Morgan was unsurprised to see the woman's cheeks flush a little, "you don't by any chance have a couple of those adjoining rooms available?"

"Absolutely!" she turned to her computer, but glanced back between Dean and Morgan before giggling at him, "Her mother must hate you, she's your clone."

Morgan and Dean locked their green eyes, both biting back laughter at the woman's assumption and the strangely truthful words she spoke.

"Yeah, she's pro'lly not my biggest fan," he gave his sister's shoulders a small shake.

A few minutes later, the four made their way to the two rooms on the third floor. After tossing their bags and unlocking the door between the rooms, Sam and Dean started drawing symbols on the walls around both rooms.

"Can I help?" Morgan asked happily, but felt immediately disheartened at the look her brothers shared.

"I really wanna say yes," Dean sighed, "but it's possible you might make them too powerful," she smirked sadly looking at the ground, "but I could use an extra set of hands if you wanna see how they're done."

She nodded at him, trying to show satisfaction, even if she didn't feel it.

"How 'bout you, Claire?" Sam asked the blonde lounging on one of the beds, "Gimme a hand 'n get some practice?"

She shrugged and slid off the bed, "Sure. Do you guys take these down when you leave?"

"Sometimes," Sam shrugged and Morgan giggled thinking of the hundreds, if not thousands, of confused maids across the country who'd walked into a room covered in satanic looking symbols over the years.

It didn't take long for the two pairs to ward the rooms, even with the brothers explaining every symbol painstakingly. Morgan climbed on the bed she'd claimed and continued the end of the epic fifth Harry Potter book, apparently, Claire wasn't content to stay cooped up in the room.

"I'm gonna head out for a bit," she said, walking confidently towards the door, unsurprisingly blocked by Dean in a moment.

"You're really not," he shook his head.

"Dude," she inclined her head and glared at him, "it's like three o'clock in the afternoon, I'll be back before it's dark, relax."

"You relax," he scoffed, "on that bed, right behind'ja."

Morgan wished they'd stop arguing so loudly, the scene she was reading in the Department of Mysteries was terrifyingly exciting, Sirius hadn't been with Voldemort at all, but had just shown up to help Harry and his friends escape the Death Eaters.

"Dean!" she implored, though kept her tone surprisingly calm, "I need to get out, for like three hours, tops, please."

He narrowed his eyes at her, but sighed heavily, "Fine, but only if Sammy'll go with ya."

She smiled and immediately shifted her gaze to Sam who shrugged indifferently.

"Yeah, sure," he shot a quick sideways glance at Dean, "I saw a used book store a block back."

Morgan saw Claire actively hold back an eyeroll and she and Sam left a few moments later, after confirm their return time twice with Dean. In the quieted room, she was finally able to concentrate on the scene she was reading, her blood pulsing in an epic fight between the Order of the Phoenix members and Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. The words she read were wrong, Morgan shook her head and reread the passage slower, focusing on each word as her stomach twisted. Harry's godfather, Sirius, the man he'd finally found a family with was gone. Slowly, she closed the massive volume and set it next to her on the bed, staring sadly at the blue cover.

"Y'ok?" she looked up as Dean inclined his head with concern at her.

"Yeah," she nodded, grimacing at him with a hand over her stomach, "m'stomach just hurts," and she quickly shut herself in the bathroom, letting a few silent tears slip down her cheeks after the door latched.

It was just a story, she knew that, but part of her couldn't help but hurt for Harry, an abused orphan who'd finally found his rightful family only to have it ripped from him. She sat on the toilet and cried as quietly as she could for a few minutes before composing herself and slipping back into the girls' bedroom. The door to the adjoining room for Sam and Dean was open and she saw the latter shuffling through his duffel on one of the beds, he turned at the sound of the opening bedroom door.

"Hey, there's like a marathon of Steve Martin classics on," he smiled, jerking his head towards the television, "what'd'a say?"

"I don't know who that is," she shrugged, sitting on his bed.

"He's hilarious," Dean assured, but couldn't help another concerned smirk, "Y'sure y'r'ok?"

"Yeah," she nodded, feigning a small smile, "that bacon just wasn't as good as home."

He nodded with an agreeing smile, "True story."

Morgan enjoyed the movies Dean put on, pushing the sad scene she'd just read from her mind with constant laughter. At the end of the second comedy, about two very different men forced to help each other get home for Thanksgiving, Sam and Claire walked through the door to the men's room, neither looked happy.

"Go si'down," Sam's curt order to Claire took Morgan back and she and Dean exchanged a glance before he jumped off the bed, Claire stalked angrily to the girls' room and slammed the adjoining door, but it was quickly reopened by Sam, glaring at her, "Keep diggin'."

"What's goin' on?" Dean growled and followed Sam's head jerk into the hallway, turning back to Morgan giving a silent order to stay where she was with a simple point to the floor and she nodded at him.

The moment the door shut, Morgan rushed into the girls' bedroom and found Claire leaning against the headboard, clutching a pillow and scowling. The older girl's expression softened a little as her friend walked in and sat up a little straighter.

"What happened?" Morgan whispered.

"Y'r'brother's an asshole," she scoffed, shaking her head at the ceiling, "he made me follow him around this bookstore 'n just gets sucked in for like an hour, so I ran a couple stores down for like two minutes," Morgan's eyes widened at her admission, realizing now the reason for Sam's anger, "he literally dragged me outta this coffee shop! It was so embarrassing, Morgan."

"I bet," the younger girl smirked in attempted solidarity, though considering they'd been gone nearly three hours, she was fairly certain the 'two minutes' Claire claimed was underexaggerated a bit.

A deep throat clear startled them both and Morgan whipped her head to the door between their rooms where both brothers were standing, arms crossed, stern expressions locked on the two girls. Dean jerked his head towards their room and Morgan immediately followed the silent order, glancing apologetically up at him as she passed, but gaining no change in his stone glower. The door shut a moment after she'd crossed the threshold.

The walls in the hotel were unfortunately thick, even with her ear pressed to the adjoining door, Morgan could only hear her brothers' deep muffled voices as incoherent mumbles, occasionally a higher pitched whine joined the one-sided conversation, but each time was quickly stifled by a louder bark from one, if not both brothers. Before she was expecting it, the door opened and she stumbled, stopping herself from falling with Dean's firm torso, slowly looking up at him with a guilty grimace.

"Y'r'just askin' f'r'it aren't'cha?" he shook his head, grabbing a gentle hold of her upper arm before she could get out of his reach and shut the door as he moved towards the bed.

"No," Morgan implored quickly, "please, I'm sorry."

"Sorry y'didn't listen 'r sorry y'got caught?" he lightly pushed her to sit on his bed, crossing his arms as he stood over her.

"Both," she admitted quietly and was sure she caught a brief amused lip curl in Dean's expression.

"Well y'r'couple episodes'a insubordination just put'cha in the same spot as her tonight," he raised his eyebrows, "No TV, no readin' 'n lights out at eight. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded, trying to look more disheartened than she felt at the punishment, but she didn't feel like returning to her book yet and knew she wasn't leaving the room anyway.

For the few hours before the sun set, leaving the girls' room in darkness, they'd both just laid motionless on their beds, turning occasionally, but after a couple angry warnings from the other room they'd stopped trying to whisper to each other. Sam left just as they announced lights out, not that it made any difference besides Claire and Morgan changing into their pajamas before returning to their previous positions. Dean shut the door after a quick good night that only Morgan answered.

Drifting off to sleep felt strange as she laid in the clean sheets of the hotel bed, darkness swirling in her closed eyes, but it wasn't a restful sleep she felt overcoming her, a force pulled her away from the safety of the warded room. Another room came into focus, large, bare, she was in a warehouse and she wasn't alone. A man she'd never seen before, tall with dark hair smiled at her, she gasped seeing Crowley behind him, on his knees, broken and bleeding, fighting the urge to run to him as the unknown man's eyes flashed red.

"Hello again, Sweetheart," the devil crooned, "I was so looking forward to introducing you to my new vessel in person."

"Screw you," Morgan bit out as confidently as she could, clenching her fists to keep her hands from shaking.

"Why don't you sound just like your brothers," he inclined his head with a smirk, Morgan's stomach dropped, "Uh oh," he giggled, putting a hand to his mouth with a fake grimace, "Was that a secret?"

"Leave him alone!" Morgan yelled at the devil on behalf of the demon, a freight train horn emphasizing the end of her demand.

"Oh you're welcome to come get him," Lucifer assured almost sweetly, "I'm kinda done with him anyway. We're not far," he sang the last words with a sick smile.

"How do you-" he shook his head with a finger to his lips interrupting her question.

"Shh," smirking condescendingly, "don't insult me, Miss Winchester. I must say, that was a hell of a show in the graveyard last night," he slowly clapped his hands, "Bravo, Sweetheart, bravo."

The rumbling of a train shook the ground of the large building, but Morgan stayed in a defensive stance towards Lucifer, trying to ignore the groans of pain from Crowley.

"Why didn't you take me then?" she bit the question out before she could stop herself, "Why him?"

"I had some, unfinished business," he scowled back at Crowley before returning his fiery gaze to Morgan, "with Mr. Crowley, here, but as I said, you're welcome to come get him. I'd much rather play with you," Crowley suddenly found a surge of renewed energy and swung himself around, knocking Lucifer's legs out from under him.

"Morgan! Don't!" Crowley yelled, "Do NOT come after me!"

Lucifer hadn't quite pulled himself together as another train rumbled by, harder than the last, much harder, Morgan's entire body was shaking uncontrollably as the warehouse around her darkened.

00000000000000000000

The mattress was vibrating violently, she heard deep, incoherent yells, but couldn't move or open her eyes for a few moments, until finally Morgan gasped and felt her body regain control again. Sam and Dean were leaning over her with terror on their faces, Claire stood white faced at the end of her bed, nearly in tears. Dean sighed with relief seeing her open her eyes and quickly gathered her into a hug that Sam completed.

"What happened?" Dean gently held her at arms-length, his voice shaking.

"He knows," she croaked, unable to find her full voice yet and seeing the concern her brothers' glanced at each other with, understanding the gravity of her words, but that didn't feel as important as, "Lucifer has Crowley," Morgan nearly cried as her voice regained strength, "he's torturing him!"

Neither brother seemed surprised or entirely upset by the news and Morgan widened her eyes in disbelief at them.

"But what happened?" Sam pushed, "You've never not come out of a dream like that."

"It wasn't a dream," Morgan thought out loud, looking at the closed curtains, wondering where Crowley and Lucifer were, "it didn't feel like one anyway. I don't know how to describe it, it was like I was there, really there. We have to find him," she implored.

Sam and Dean looked at each other for a few moments before they both stood.

"I'll call Cas," Dean pulled his phone from his jeans pocket.

"I got Rowena," Sam grumbled, following suit, and both walked into the other bedroom.

"Are you ok?" Claire asked quietly, sitting on the bed next to Morgan.

"Yeah," she nodded, "I think so."

"That was really scary," the blonde said sadly.

"What happened?" Morgan inclined her head, "Here."

"At first you were just kickin' a lot and kinda mumblin'," Claire began, "but you started, like, seizing," Morgan felt the shocked expression hit her face as her jaw nearly fell open, but listened intently as Claire spoke, "yeah, like for a few minutes and then it'd stop and then it'd start again and you wouldn't wake up, Dean was losing it," she shook her head, "He called Sam to get back here and as soon as he walked in you started with like the worst one, but then it finally stopped and you woke up. You sure y're ok? I don't think people can have that many seizures in a row and be ok."

"Yeah, really," Morgan offered a weak smile, "I'm fine."

Dean walked back in the room, with Sam on his heels, and announced that Rowena and Castiel would be joining them shortly.

"We can't wait!" Morgan implored, "He's killing him!"

"Morgan," Sam shook his head, "we're not goin' guns blazin' at this, 'specially if he knows y'r'our sister. Tell us what you saw, we need a plan."

Quickly, she relived out loud the ordeal she'd just experienced, neglecting Crowley's order not to go after him, and Sam pulled out his laptop to search for abandoned warehouses near the railroad tracks. At one point, Castiel called Dean back, informing him that Rowena and him were close to returning to the city limits and since Sam had already pinpointed half a dozen possible locations, they decided to meet there. Dean was unhappy about taking the girls with them, but Sam reminded him that it might be a trap to lure them away from the room and it was safer to take them with, provided bother of them stay in the Impala.

A few minutes later, the four of them had snuck out a side door of the hotel and the dark sedan was tearing down the road towards the train tracks. Dean reminded both of them repeatedly to stay in the car on the way there, but Morgan was concentrating on feeling for Crowley and Lucifer's power, imploring him loudly to stop the Impala when she felt an unnatural surge in the air. They were creeping towards a long warehouse with at least half the windows broken, the lights flickering inside. A few moments later, Castiel's headlights lit up the back windshield before he shut them off, following Dean to a slow grumbling stop at least fifty feet from the entrance, the oldest Winchester turned to face the backseat.

"A'right," he glanced at both of them seriously, "neither of you leave this car. Understood?"

They nodded and Morgan mumbled a weak, "yes, sir," before Sam and Dean got out to the Impala and cautiously approached the doors of the warehouse, Casitel and Rowena following closely behind.

Morgan wasted little time after the warehouse door shut and pulled her sack of crystals from next to the bullet in her new jacket, kneeling on the floor to arrange them carefully, as well as she could on the seat. Claire watched as Morgan muttered the familiar words, focusing on Dean, gasping as he came into focus, flying across the room and hitting a wall hard before crumpling to the floor. Sam was not in much better straights, Lucifer trying to pull him closer as ever huge bit of Sam resisted, Castiel had clearly taken a shot on arrival and was slowly getting up from the ground near Lucifer and Crowley. Rowena was reciting a spell from the Book of the Damned, something to burn his vessel, something to force him out of his human form, but seem to be struggling to hold against his power. Letting go, Morgan felt a cool rush bring her back to the Impala, looking directly at the blonde already eyeing her with the same determined expression.

"Rowena needs my help!" Morgan implored.

"Let's go," Claire nodded without a second thought and both girl busted out the rear doors of the Impala, running full speed at the warehouse.

Dean had just regained his feet when they pushed through the doors, "Morgan NO!" Sam whipped his head from the other side of the door and tried to reach for his sister, but Moran bolted towards Rowena and the Book. The redheaded witch looked surprised, but almost grateful at her arrival as the man in front of them bore door with angry red eyes, resembling a lion being held back by shoe string, she shoved the book into Morgan's hands, the power and incantation were inherent instantly.

"Non corpus, vos habere animam, hac tum praetonria nave releave, et abiit!" Morgan cried at the man looming closer to her, his body deteriorating as he walked, a leg shattered, the next and upon his collapse the entire vessel disintegrated into dust as a warm powerful light rose from the broken man, swooping right at Morgan and knocking her over before disappearing from the large room.

Her heart was racing as she looked up at Claire, smiling and offering a hand up, their congratulations at each other was very short lived as Sam and Dean approached, their expressions more livid than either had ever seen on them, and that said something. Dean was nearly the color of a tomato and Sam' nostrils were actually flaring with anger.

Dean didn't say a word, even as Morgan stuttered her way through a few explanations, and pulled her by the arm, through the front doors and towards the Impala. He wretched he rear driver's side open and halted Morgan from tying to slip into her usual seat.

"Little girl," Dean growled, sitting and sliding into the middle of the backseat, "this a John Winchester special preview, a mere taste of what's comin' later," reaching for his little sister's hand.

She followed his gestured into the backseat, her stomach twisting, the mystery was short lived as he yanked her jeans down to her knees and pushed the thin girl across his lap, wasting no time as he landed one hard smack after another to her underwear covered bottom and the bits of bare on the undercurve into her thighs. Morgan kicked as much as she could in the position, which wasn't much, but Dean smacked the back of her thighs several times in a row, ceasing further moment from her thin legs as he continued bring down his punishing hand in complete silence. Morgan knew what she did, she'd disobeyed direct orders, but hadn't she helped too? The pain in her bottom was growing hot with every swat his large hand landed, but suddenly he stopped, roughly pulled her jeans back up, gaining a winced gasp from the girl still across his lap, and sat her, a little hard, on the backseat.

"I don't care if you thought we need y'r'help," he began sternly, "I don't even care if we really did, which we didn't by the way, Rowena was a minute from busting that vessel herself. Where were you told to stay?"

"In the car," she mumbled, shifting her weight uncomfortably and gaining no relief.

"And did you?" he baited.

"No, sir," she barely finished her response before he'd yanked her back over his knees and landed six more stinging smacks to the bottom of her jeans.

Tears were pouring down her face as he pulled her back up, but didn't leave the backseat, indicating that might not be the end of it at the moment. But when she finally looked up at her brother's green eyes, they were damp and while his face was very harsh, it was full of concern.

"I was so scared when you walked in kid," he shook his head in quiet admittance, "all I thought was I was gonna lose you right then."

"I'm really sorry, Dean," Morgan cried.

"Not good enough this time, Sweetie," Dean shook his head solemnly, "y'gotta pay the piper."

Morgan didn't know who this piper was, but she was pretty sure the rest of her night would involve a view of the floor courtesy of Dean's lap, and nodded sadly as Dean slid out the passenger rear door. Claire landed hard on the leather, shooting a last glare at Sam before he shut the door hard and both brothers got in their seats up front. Silently, they returned to the hotel rooms, Morgan's already stinging behind twinging uncomfortably the closer they got, she stared at her hands, refusing to even glance at Claire the few times she felt her eyes hot on the side of her face. Her attack on Lucifer had been impressively short lived before his vessel deteriorated, perhaps Rowena really had been on a breakthrough when the younger witch joined.

"Sam, take Claire in our room," Dean growled and Sam opened the adjoining room for Claire, who stopped and faced the oldest Winchester.

"We were just helping," she implored, Sam grabbing her arm and trying to pull her over the threshold into the men's room.

"You disobeyed a direct order," Dean barked, "that coulda gotten both of you hurt or killed. I don't care what either of you think you were tryin' t'do, but that is what y'did. Claire go in the other room, I'll deal with you soon."

Her face remained defiant as the color drained and she allowed Sam to pull her into the other bedroom and he closed the door on their exit, leaving Morgan and Dean alone. He wasted no time pulling the desk chair away from the beds for more space and entered the bathroom, exiting quickly with Claire's wooden hairbrush in his hand and Morgan' s stomach twisted terribly. Slowly, Dean sat on the straight-backed, armless chair and beckoned his sister to him after setting the brush on the floor to the right of his seat.

"Please, Dean," she begged, but didn't dare not approach, shuffling her feet slowly until she was just within arms-reach, "I'm sorry, I won't-"

"Morgan," Dean shook his head, "D'you know you deserve this?" she sobbed at the question and couldn't help but nod, "Ok. Jeans off," her eyes widened at him, but as his serious expression didn't waiver, she slowly undid her jeans and eased them over her already warmed bottom, kicking them off on the floor and staring at the ground with embarrassment as she stood in front of her brother in underwear and a t-shirt.

Dean took her hand and gently guided the small teenager over his knee, securing her legs with his other, which Morgan didn't understand until she felt a cool rush on her bare bottom as Dean slid her underwear below her knees. The humiliation she was experiencing brought fresh tears to her eyes, but they fell instantly with loud sobs as Dean's large heavy hand alternated quickly from one bare, vulnerable cheek to the next, focusing again on the part of her bottom where her thighs began and peppered the undercurve several times before moving on. Morgan was gasping for breath, sobbing and trying to force out coherent apologizes, though Dean clearly had no interest in 'I'm sorry's' right now as he hand continued a punishing wave of stinging swats. She was bawling limply over his lap in minutes, wishing it would stop, wishing she'd stayed in the Impala. He finally paused, but not for long as Morgan felt him shift and then a cool, flat, hard sensation resting on her fiery backside.

"You don't know how upset I am with you," Dean scolded and Morgan bawled guiltily, "I can't believe you did that tonight! You are on lockdown indefinitely, if you so much as argue with me over dinner you're gonna be back here. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Morgan sobbed, waiting for the brush to move, wanting this over, wishing she'd never gotten out of the car.

Without further scolding, Dean brought the brush down once hard and had to wrap his arm tightly around Morgan's waist as she instinctually tried to crawl away from the awful pain exploding across her bare behind. The first strike was so surprising she held her breath, but found herself screeching by the second.

"NOO!" She begged, clutching his calf tightly, yelling through a sob on the next connection, "Pleeeeaaaasse! I- I- I will! I will LIIIISTENNNN! I'MMMM SORRRRRRRYYYYY," the sound of the brush cracking was nearly as painful as it was landing on her crimson red behind, "DEEEAAAANNNN!"

Her cries had no effect on the equally strong, twenty swats he rained down with the hairbrush, although she didn't see his face break as she squealed his name and hastened the last two before tossing the brush away from him on the bed. His punishing hand returned in gentle strokes up and down her shaking back for a moment before easing her underwear back over her very sore bottom and flipping her on his lap.

"Hey," he pulled her chin up to look at him, her face tear streaked and blotched, "y'r'not done yet," she sobbed with a fresh cry of fear, following his gesture off his lap and stiffly walking to the desk he gently pushed her towards, dragging the chair behind him, "Sit," he ordered after setting the chair back in front of the clear surface, Morgan offered a pleading gaze, but a sharp swat on her tender behind from a very impatient Dean instigated a quicker response and a whimper as she sat gingerly on the seat. Opening a few drawers of the desk, Dean set a pen and yellow legal pad on the surface and pointed to the top of the page, "I will not disobey my brothers. Every line, both sides, three sheet, let's go."

Biting back more sobs, Morgan nodded at the empty pages and slowly wrote the required sentence on the top of the page and then below it and again. Her bottom seemed to get hotter with every line, shifting her weight on the itchy surface did nothing to alleviate any of the blistering agony. Why had she rushed in that warehouse? Nearly without even thinking. She knew the moment she'd opened the door to the Impala she was wrong, but she'd abandoned rational thought for what she thought was a hero moment. Now here she was wiping tears and sniffling, writing repetitive, scolding lines, sitting on an uncomfortable hotel chair, with a throbbing backside and a quickly cramping hand.

After what felt like hours, Morgan turned to look at Dean sitting on her bed behind her, glancing quickly back at her, hopefully, completed punishment, blotched with tear drops, but three fill pages of harsh reminders. He stood and accessed both sides of each before nodding and taking her by the hand, pulling her back to the bed with him and easily pulling her onto his lap, careful to let her bottom cradle between his knees.

"I'm sorry, Dean," she sniffled, "I was just tryin' to help."

"Yeah," he sighed, "but you were told to stay in the car, weren't'cha?" she nodded sadly, "So even if you had the best of intentions, you disobeyed me," again she nodded with disheartened admittance, "I'm very disappointed in you," she dipped her head and sobbed quietly, but felt him pull her chin up to look at him, "You terrified me tonight, I thought I was gonna lose one of the only people I care about," at that she smiled weakly and he tightened his grip around her, "Oh, Sweetie, don't you ever pull some crap like that again."

Shaking her head earnestly into his shirt, she mumbled, "I won't, I promise."

After a few minutes, Morgan collected herself and Dean gathered her in his arms, gently laying her in the bed, brushing her hair back and planting a kiss on her forehead.

"G'night," he said sternly, turning towards the door to his and Sam's room.

"Are you gonna-" Morgan's question trailed off as she realized it wasn't her business.

Dean picked the hairbrush off the other bed and Claire's duffel bag from the floor, turning before he opened the connecting door, "Go to sleep, Morgan," flicking the light switch as he shut the door, Morgan was alone in the darkness of the girls' room, listening closely to the muffled sounds of the next room.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Rowena take the plan into their own hands with disastrous consequences...

For a while, all Morgan heard was the low, rumbling growl of Dean's voice, sometimes accompanied by Sam and occasionally peppered by Claire, hardly anything, besides short angry barks, were coherent, however, Claire's responses clearly became more docile as the lecture droned on. The dark-haired girl was almost asleep, her tears having finally stopped completely, though her bottom throbbed terribly, when she heard a loud crack followed by a gasp beginning the repetition of many more. Claire wasn't yelling anymore, besides apologies through her cries, Morgan only made out a few before just the faint hints of sobbing could be heard through the constant smacking. She winced when the cracks became far more solid and Claire shrieked, Morgan's bottom pulsed with pain remembering the awful feeling of that hairbrush, counting exactly fifteen before it stopped. She heard Claire sobbing harder and the growl of her brother's voice, but finally drifted off into sleep while trying to listen. The blonde girl was, however, asleep in the other bed when Morgan awoke the next morning, her duffel bag back on the floor.

She heard the television and the deep sounds of Sam and Dean talking through the open connecting door, Morgan winced, sliding out of bed and very tenderly pulled her sweatpants over her bottom. She could still feel heat radiating as her hands grazed inches away from her tender skin and she stiffly walked to the door, peering cautiously into her brothers' room.

They were fully dressed and reclined on their beds, barely paying attention to the television, and smiled at her in welcome when she appeared in the doorway.

"Mornin'," Sam scooted over and she climbed carefully onto his bed, unable to find a comfortable position and finally just laid on her stomach towards the headboard as they chuckled, "How y'feelin'?"

She blushed in response, but glanced apologetically at him, "M'sorry, Sam."

"I bet," he nodded, "Y'r'not gonna do anythin' like that again, though, right?" she shook her head adamantly at him, "Good, you scared the crap outta me, Morgan," she nodded in sad admittance, remembering Sam's frantic yell when she'd burst through the warehouse doors, "and you should know I'm framin' those lines in your bedroom when we get home."

Thinking of her bedroom and the bunker made her eyes sting with tears and she croaked her question at Sam through a tightening throat, "When can we go home?"

The corners of his mouth turned down sadly before glancing at Dean on the other bed who looked equally as disheartened, offering a small shrug to his siblings and responding in a low mumble, "Soon, I hope."

A knock on their outer door made all three Winchester heads turn, Dean approached the door, gun by his side, as Sam stood between him and the bed Morgan was still on. After a quick check through the peephole, Dean threw the door open and Castiel, Rowena and a renewed Crowley entered the room. The redheaded witch peered passed Sam to the girl wincing while getting off the bed and shot an angry glower at Dean.

"Darling," Rowena called to the younger witch, "you were brilliant last night, absolutely-"

"Shut it," Dean growled and as Rowena opened her mouth to speak again, she thought better of it and simply glared at the oldest Winchester.

"We don't have much time now," Castiel urged, moving into the room, "He knows who she is, as soon as he gets his bearings he'll be full force at her I have no doubt, we have to move soon."

"The sooner the better," Crowley grumbled, shooting a quick wink at Morgan.

"Morgan," Dean jerked his head towards the girls' room, "go get dressed 'n wake up Claire."

She nodded and walked stiffly towards the room, but was stopped by Castiel's hand on her shoulder.

"Were you hurt when he threw you last night?" he asked earnestly and she blushed, staring at the carpet, "Let me-"

"Cas, no," Dean halted him with a hand on his shoulder, "that's a lesson not an injury."

It took a moment, but understanding washed over the angel's face and Morgan hurried into the other room as fast as she could to hide the rising color in her cheeks, shutting the door behind her.

She heard a distinct shriek from Rowena followed with a sharp, deep bark, "YOU don't tell me how t'handle my family!"

"Hey," Morgan turned, seeing Claire awake, lying on her side, smiling weakly at her.

"Hey," the younger girl crawled onto her bed on her stomach, "Y'ok?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "I should be askin' you," Morgan blushed, offering a small nod.

"So," Morgan pried, "what happened?"

Claire scoffed, "Like you didn't hear."

"No, I know," she grimaced, "but I saw Dean take y'r'bag too."

"Oh," she nodded in understanding, "yeah, he basically gave me a choice, that or I'm out. An' look, I can't wait t'get out there alone, but they're right, I'm not good enough to survive on my own yet 'n well, they're the best, so yeah," she shrugged, her cheeks turning pink, "I just took it, but he didn't nearly gimme what he gave you," she winced and Morgan dipped her head in embarrassment, her bottom throbbing with a reminder of the night before, "Y'sure y'r'ok?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "wishin' I'd've just, y'know…"

"You 'n me both," Claire nodded and they both giggled in solidarity of their badly thought out reaction.

The girls both changed slowly before knocking on the brothers' door and hearing Dean call them into the room. Morgan felt a familiar, rage in the room and saw Rowena pouring over the Book of the Damned at the desk with Crowley standing over her shoulder. Castiel was talking to Dean as he and Sam packed their bags.

"Got y'r'stuff together?" he asked the two girls, both nodding at him, "Ok, we're gettin' outta here soon."

Dean's words were an understatement as they carried their bags out the side door of the hotel to the Impala less than ten minutes later. Claire and Morgan slid carefully onto the backseat, sharing a wince before averting their eyes while trying to settle into the most comfortable spot available. Sam and Dean were both uncharacteristically quiet on the ride out of the city, neglecting, or forgetting, to even put on the radio, but finally, Sam broke the silence.

"How did you do that last night?" he inclined his head at Morgan, "You just grabbed the book and said that spell, you didn't look at the page."

"I don't know," she shrugged, realizing then he was right, she hadn't considered how the spell had just come to her.

"Do you maybe feel," Sam grimaced a little uncomfortably with his question, "closer to the book?" she scowled at him, trying to hide the fear of that truth in her eyes, Sam continued defensively, "I'm just wonderin' if when you touch it you get a little more of its power, a stronger connection with it, it's okay Morgan, we'll figure it out, just talk to us."

"I don't know what happened," she implored and continued with a lie, "It doesn't feel any different."

"You sure?" Sam pried.

"Totally," she nodded.

"Alright," he nodded, glancing at Dean who was silently staring out the windshield and hadn't said a word since the order to leave, "cause we're gonna need to go from flight to fight here, like now."

"Sam," Dean growled warningly.

"What'd you mean?" Morgan asked, locking eyes with Sam so he wouldn't look at Dean.

"Lucifer's without a vessel right now-" Sam began and Morgan felt Claire stiffen next to her.

"Sam," Dean's tone was more agitated and louder this time.

"Dean, we don't have time," Sam snapped at him, turning around again in the front seat, "I'm sorry, but I think they're right."

"So do I!" Dean barked, "That's why I've got'a frickin' problem with it!"

"We didn't expect what's happening with her and the book, no," Sam implored, "but it doesn't have to be a bad thing! I don't think it's the same connection you had, Dean."

"Was it The Mark?" Morgan asked quietly and saw Dean nod quickly in the rearview mirror, "What was it like?"

He sighed heavily, "Touchin' that book when I had The Mark on me," he shook his head of the unwanted memories he was forcing himself to relive, "it was dark, evil, but powerful, like if I didn't make myself let go I'd never want to."

Morgan's stomach had twisted more with each word he spoke, recreating the strange allure of the book perfectly, but forcing a blank expression she shook her head a little, "No, it's not like that for me."

She saw the disbelief in her oldest brother's eyes before he turned his gaze from the rearview mirror back out the windshield. The car returned to awkward silence, Sam asking Dean occasionally where they were headed, but Dean just stared out at the road ahead and ignored him. Once, the younger brother got agitated and barked at Dean to answer him, but the oldest sent a glare at Sam that sent a shiver down their sister's spine. She saw Sam's jaw twitched, but he didn't push further and stared out the passenger window.

They drove for a few hours, both girls squirming uncomfortably by the time they finally stopped at cabin in the middle of heavy woods. What apparently used to be their friend Bobby's, or one of many he had scattered around the country, was a decaying one room shack with two beds, a kitchenette and what looked like enough guns to start a small war. Sam and Dean quickly drew a few protection symbols on the walls as the girls both collapsed on their stomachs on one of the beds.

"Why are we here?" Claire whispered, Morgan shook her head with confusion on her face, the blonde rolled her eyes, "Great."

"You should let Cas know where we're at," Sam told Dean, neither listening to the girls whispering on the bed.

"Yeah," Dean sighed, "I will in a bit."

"Dean," Sam inclined his head with a scowl.

"Dude," the oldest shook his head, growling at Sam, "I get it, okay? Sue me if I want ten more minutes of peace before this crap starts!"

"What peace Dean?" Sam implored, "We're just wasting time!"

Morgan and Claire stared at each other wide eyed as the brothers got louder.

"Lucifer's still gonna be out there tomorrow Sam!"

"But he might have a vessel tomorrow, Dean!" Sam shot back angrily, "Hell, he might have one already! You heard them, you agreed with them and then you drag us out to the middle of nowhere to hide!"

"She's not ready for this!" Dean barked.

"She's not ready or you're not ready?" Sam challenged, his defensive stance was obviously prepared as Dean barreled at him and both burst through the screen door of the cabin.

Morgan and Claire gasped at each other before pushing off the bed and hurrying to peer out the dingy door still banging in the frame. Sam had pushed Dean away from him, dodging another attack and wrestling his older brother to the ground, not for long as Dean flipped Sam on his back and sent a well-aimed punch to his jaw.

"Guys!" Morgan yelled, pushing through the screen door as Sam kicked Dean off of him, cradling his chin briefly before squaring back on his brother, neither had heard her and she tried louder, "STOP!" Dean was still advancing on Sam whose fist was pulled, ready to connect hard, Morgan had lost her patience, "DURATUS!"

She knew the moment silence fell around the cabin both her brothers were livid, but Morgan needed this silly fight to end so they could tell her what the hell was going on. Claire stifled a giggle at the funny statutes in the yard, but a glare from Morgan washed the blondes face of amusement.

"You done?" Morgan called even though they couldn't respond, "I'd like t'know what you two seem to know that I don't, so if y'r'done beatin' the hell outta each other," she trailed her sarcastic statement off, sweeping both hands towards the ground, "Relinquo," and turned back into the cabin before they'd even found their feet after the spell released.

"Oh, little girl," Dean growled, advancing towards the cabin, but Sam caught his shoulder.

"Dean," he said calmly, "don't man, we kinda deserved that," Morgan smirked at them both as they entered, having heard their exchange, Sam pointed a firm finger at his sister, "Don't ever do that again though or I'll kick y'r'ass."

"You weren't listening," she responded defiantly, "I tried."

"Try harder," Sam scoffed, still craning his neck from the discomfort of being frozen for half a minute.

"Hello, boys," a gravely accented voice entered the room and all four whipped around at the door to see Crowley, smiling sinisterly as always, nodding to Morgan and Claire, "girls."

"What're you doin' here?" Dean advanced quickly, putting himself between the demon and the others.

"We were wondering where you'd all gone off to," he said snidely, "I thought the plan was to meet us with her at my place."

"Last minute change," Dean answered firmly, Crowley scoffed in disbelief.

"You realize how much you're putting at stake?" the demon sneered at the oldest Winchester.

"Not her," Dean jerked his head towards the green-eyed girl just behind him.

"No," Crowley jeered, "just the rest of the world, countless lives-"

"Don't act like you care about that," Dean scoffed.

"I never said I did," Crowley admitted with a small shrug, "but it doesn't change the facts."

"Dean-" Morgan began, but her brother's large hand was immediately held up as he kept his glare fixed on the demon, silently ordering her to keep her mouth shut.

"I didn't say we weren't doin' this," Dean shook his head.

"You just wanted to waste even more time we don't have?" Crowley accused and Dean leveled him with a such narrow eyes they were merely slits for the daggers he was shooting mentally at the demon, but he didn't respond.

"We'll be there when we're ready," Sam stepped in as calmly as he could while seething at Crowley, "Get the hell out."

"That's all fine and good, Samantha," Crowley smirked, "but the thing is," he snapped his fingers, "I don't believe you."

Morgan gasped as she came out of the awful spinning sensation she'd only experienced once before and found herself in a dimly lit, dungeon like room, the cabin, Claire and her brothers having completely disappeared. She felt the familiar dark, raging call, but a sudden swarming scene followed her arrival. Crowley had the same smirk on his face and she saw Rowena smile, getting up from a throne at the front of the room, but Castiel rushed towards them with anger billowing around him as he yelled.

"What have you done?!" the angel's approach on Morgan was blocked quickly by Crowley, "Where are Sam and Dean?"

"They're unreasonable," Crowley shrugged with disinterest, "we have the Winchester we need."

"You kidnapped her?!" Castiel was breathing heavily, trying to edge around Crowley, but gaining no ground.

"Well, if you want to get technical," Crowley gave a smirk of admittance.

"Send her back, now," the angel bit out through gritted teeth.

"I could," Crowley nodded slowly, "or," he snapped his fingers again and Castiel vanished from the room.

"What? Where?" Morgan sputtered, looking at the place Castiel had just stood, "Crowley what the hell?!"

"Yes, darling," he opened his arms, "welcome."

"What?" she scoffed in confusion.

"Hell, Morgan," Crowley shook his head, letting his arms fall, disappointed in her lack of appreciation for his dramatic flair, "you're in Hell."

The young witch stared around the dank room, various torture devices were strewn carelessly around and in the brief silence of the cavernous space, Morgan heard faint screaming, her spine shivered.

"Hello, Dearie," Rowena crooned, approaching from behind Crowley with a wide smile, "So sorry about the little abduction, but your brother is hell bent on throwing obstacles at our operation," she giggled at her own bad pun.

"Dean's not-" Morgan began her argument, but was quickly cut short by the impatient demon.

"His judgement is clouded," Crowley observed, "family has that effect on Dean, but I know you know this has to be done, Lucifer must be stopped and you, my dear, must do it, and soon."

"Now," Rowena corrected.

"Now?" Morgan held her breath, staring wide eyed between the demon and his mother as they both nodded.

"We have a summoning spell," Crowley explained, "It's what we used before, but lacked the power to extract him from his vessel at that time, let alone shoving him back in the cage."

"Now?!" Morgan implored louder.

"Yes," he said simply, "now."

Her stomach rolled with anxiety as she let Rowena lead her to an antique table where she just noticed the Book of the Damned sat, feeling it's call get more powerful as she got closer. Morgan couldn't help reaching her fingers out and grazing the dark brown cover, enjoying the raging power shooting through her, something she hadn't realized how badly she'd missed until experiencing it again. The power was enthralling, and the dark anger found its home in the deep memories of abuse and remanence of hatred from that time. Morgan found herself flipping pages again, wanting to never let the book out of her hands, but too soon Rowena slid it away from the younger witch, catching the fiery glare and looked almost frightened before Morgan shook her head, returning to a more human expression.

"You know the vessel extraction spell," Rowena pushed passed the strange moment, glancing warily at Morgan a few times, who nodded that yes that spell had seemed inherent in the moment it was needed, "This is the final spell, the one that will send him back to the cage."

"Why don't we just kill him?" Morgan asked and Rowena looked at her with surprise before sharing a boisterous laugh with Crowley.

"That's always plan A, darling," Crowley smirked, "we've worked our way through the alphabet a bit at this point."

"So which one's this?" the youngest Winchester crossed her arms and settled challenging eyes on the King of Hell.

"I think we're on M now," he gave her a snide smile she answered by narrowing her eyes.

"Can I at least see what I'm workin' with?" Morgan spat, glancing at Rowena and the book.

Crowley nodded and gestured to Rowena to give the dark volume back to Morgan, but the older witch gave him a leery gaze. The demon, as always, was short on patience, flicking a couple fingers and the book slid back under Morgan's anxious fingers. Breathing slowly as the feeling overwhelmed her again, but tried to concentrate through the immense sensation, focusing on the bloody scratch marks on the ancient sheets of dried skin. It described the cage, an awful place God had designed for Lucifer specifically, in the deepest, darkest, most bitter part of Hell. Morgan shuddered at the thought, finding a strange pang of sympathy for the angel whose Father had locked him away, thinking of all the times she'd been confined by her Mother. Shaking her head from the comparison she'd just made between herself and the Devil, Morgan tried to remember she wasn't killing people or trying to end the world, Lucifer had made his choices despite his reasons and she needed to stop him at any cost. After all, she was a Winchester.

After about an hour of Rowena and Morgan pouring over the book, planning every possible outcome for when they summoned Lucifer, Crowley finally sighed heavily from his reclined position on his throne.

"I don't mean to rush anyone," he began.

"Yes you do," Morgan threw over her shoulder nonchalantly, missing the smirk of admittance on Crowley's face before he continued.

"Still," he pulled himself out of the throne and approached the witches, "I'm sure Squirrel, Moose and Feathers will be joining us sooner than later and would like to have this plan far enough in the process that they can't squash it on arrival."

Morgan furrowed her brow in confusion, "They can get in here?"

Crowley scoffed, but his tone was almost of admiration, "There are few places, if any, they can't get in. Trust me they're on their way, if I turned my phone back on I'm sure there's at least a dozen threatening voicemails," Morgan grinned at him, feeling relief with the knowledge her brothers were coming, but a confident rage was bursting to complete their plan. The Book of the Damned cold in her hands as Morgan pretended to still be concentrating on the incantation so her fingertips could maintain contact with the rush of power she didn't want to relent.

"Are you ready?" Crowley asked and Morgan almost though she caught concern in his eyes.

"Let's do this," she shrugged, standing up and pulling at her blue jacket.

"Stick a gun down the back of your pants, add a few more years of self-loathing and I'd hardly be able to tell the difference," Crowley mocked, but Morgan smiled proudly at his attempted insult.

Rowena readied a spell bowl, her hands seemed to shake as she combined the ingredients, glancing up at Morgan, "We must be quick, as soon as he gets here you jump on him, whether we have to extract him from a vessel or not, it must all be done faster than possible," the younger witched nodded her understanding of the repeated order, Rowena had reminded her several times of the importance of time and not giving Lucifer an opportunity to retaliate.

The redhaired witch took a deep breath and began the summoning spell, the room around them shaking almost as soon as she began, Morgan clutched the Book of the Damned tight to her chest, the angry, confident power pounding into her chest with every beat of her heart. Crowley retreated to the back of the room as the bowl in front of Rowena flashed and they were all blinded for a few moments, ominous cackling breaking the silence as darkness settled back into the room. A lanky man with a terribly familiar grin stood a few feet from the table, snickering at the scene around him.

"Morgan, now!" Rowena screamed.

"Non corpus, vos hab-" Morgan hurried, realizing she'd wasted precious seconds already, but Rowena's sudden trip across the room sent her flying into the young girl and the Book of the Damned spilled from her hands.

"Not this time," Lucifer shook his head taking a few steps towards Morgan as she jumped to her feet in a defensive stance, "No, little Miss Winchester, but I have a spell I'd like to share with you."

As she waved her hands, about to cry out any attack she could, he smiled while snapping his fingers and Morgan felt a heavy blow to the back of her head. Darkness overcame her mind as Morgan watched the floor get closer.

Lucifer's dark chuckle echoed in her ears before Morgan opened her eyes, unable to move but for a few inches, she registered the bindings keeping her firmly on Crowley's throne. She couldn't help a soft groan, feeling the pain in her head from the blunt attack and fall she'd sustained, but her blood ran cold when she saw his red eyes flash as he turned to her from the table.

"Good morning," he crooned, making her stomach turn.

"Screw you," she spat, glancing around the room and seeing Rowena still unconscious in a heap on the floor, Crowley nowhere to be seen.

"Yes," he nodded meanly, leaning in close to her, "you continue to prove your vocabulary is as extensive as your brothers'."

"They're coming," she growled at him, "they're on their way right now."

"Perfect, just what I was hoping for," he breathed into her ear, "but first, I'm gonna harvest all that wonderful power from every tiny, pathetic piece of you."

Morgan fought against the chains holding her to the chair, trying to force any magic from her hands, but like the dream she'd been caught in, she was powerless. Lucifer threw his head back and laughed watching her struggle.

"Those chains won't let you," he shook his head with amusement, "anti-witch spell work etched into each link, you're stuck, Sweetheart."

"For now," she breathed threateningly at him, "but I'm not y'r'average witch, Sweetheart."

"I'll work fast," he winked and turned back to the table, continuing to prepare the ingredients for magic Morgan was sure would kill her and she again tried to pull herself from the chair with no success.

It was no use, the chains wouldn't budge and without her magic she couldn't even pretend to have enough strength to get out of the situation she was in, Rowena, still piled uselessly on the floor and Crowley had seemed to flee the scene as soon as Lucifer arrived. Morgan had no help, she may have relished a few weeks as the overprotected little sister to the men who'd saved the world, but her life was about to end exactly as it had always been. Alone and painful.

"Now, Sweetheart," Lucifer turned back to her, a full spell bowl in one hand and a knife in the other, "I'm not going to tell you this isn't going to hurt, I kind of hope it does," and he sliced a gash across a bared wrist, blood pouring instantly into the bowl he held under her hand until it was apparently enough.

He returned the bowl to the table as Morgan's wrist continued to pump blood onto her hand, the floor and to her horror, the blue jacket that matched Deans. Strangely, Morgan didn't feel like crying, seeing the dark stain grow on her sleeve and she fought again to move, ready to kill Lucifer without magic. But he began an incantation and the pain that overcame her next pushed all thoughts from her mind, unable to focus on anything but the extraordinary stabbing and pulling she felt on every nerve, screaming out in the agony overwhelming her small frame as the Devil laughed.

She would die, of all the times she thought she would die of pain, this would be the one that actually killed her. Morgan could feel herself slipping, her soul fighting to be released from the tortured body it was inhabiting, she might have begged for death if she could breathe.

Finally, the muttered incantation ceased and the forces pulling her apart stopped. But as the pain dulled and began to fade, Morgan could feel herself fading with it, the darkness overcoming her was final. With the last bit of energy she had, Morgan lifted her head slightly and eyed Lucifer with half opened eyes.

"It's almost over," he nearly sang at her, pushing back a sleeve, ready to sink his hand into the spell bowl that was draining her incredible power, leaving her a dying shell.

"Bite me," she bit out weakly.

"I'm gonna do far worse than that," he smiled, lowering his hand into the muck of ingredients and blood, muttering the final incantation, "Haec postestas mea, nunc tolle eam."

Morgan slumped in the throne as the last ounce of fight left her, registering the blaze of light and agonizing yell, but her time to help had passed, she had failed. The last image she had before her breathing stopped was Dean's face, screaming with tears pouring from his livid green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, shit, what kind of asshole kills the main character? ... hi :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter in Morgan's FIRST Story.

"Winchesters," a disinterested scoff made Morgan turn to see a thin, pretty woman dressed in a black pant suit.

Whipping her head around, Morgan realized she was sitting at the counter of Mel's diner, or a version of it, completely empty and the street outside didn't seem to be there. A hot cup of coffee sat on the white counter and for just a moment, Morgan stole a glance at the booth she, Sam and Dean had first sat and talked in the night her mother died. The rigidly straight backed, dark-haired woman sitting a couple stools away seemed almost bored, not averting her eyes from the girl who was craning her neck around, trying to understand her current circumstance.

"Am I dead?" she asked the hard-looking woman.

"Yes," she nodded curtly, "Morgan, your life has not been easy, but you'll be at peace now."

Tears slipped down her face as she thought of her brothers, "I didn't even get to say good-bye."

"Most people don't," the woman shrugged indifferently.

"What happened? Is Lucifer-" Morgan stopped asking as the woman slowly shook her head.

"I deal with the dead," she insisted, "I have no interest in the lives of the living."

"What are you?" Morgan narrowed her eyes at the heartless creature.

"A reaper," she said simply and Morgan felt cold, at first she thought from nerves but as the front door burst open, a wild wind whipped through the diner and she pulled her jacket closer, the reaper seemed unaffected physically, but angry at the wind's presence, "What?! Absolutely not!" she shook her head incredulously, Morgan turned to every side, but couldn't see or hear anyone else as the reaper continued yelling at the blustering invisible force, "He told you? But that's not- Well, obviously, but- Why? What the Chuck?! Yeah, I guess I don't have much of a choice, no, no, it's fine," at the frustrated hand wave from the woman, the wind rushed out of the diner and the door shut quietly behind it.

"What the hell was that?" Morgan whipped her head back at the reaper.

"Heaven actually," she scoffed, shaking her head bitterly, "I'm supposed to tell you, while I can't believe this, but apparently, He feels He owe your brothers' a favor-"

"Who?" Morgan interrupted, scared of the wind and the change in the already unforgiving appearance of the reaper.

"He," she emphasized, holding up a conditional finger, "but He said your power's gone, it was an unnatural loophole you fell into," Morgan narrowed her eyes at the dismissive way she'd called her unnatural, but listened closely trying to understand what the reaper was saying, "you won't be a witch anymore."

"I'm not anything anymore," Morgan mumbled at the untouched cup of coffee in front of her and heard the reaper scoff.

"You Winchesters are incredibly thick," she shook her head, reaching her hand out to the confused and nervous girl, "and stupidly lucky," with that she touched the side of Morgan's face and the diner was gone.

000000000000000000000

Before even gasping the first breath of cold, relieving air, Morgan felt Dean's arms wrapped tightly around her and Sam's large hand running over her hair, both in quiet, agonizing sobs. She opened her eyes, tears welling in her own as she saw the looks of shocked relief wash over both of them and without a word, pulled her into a hug she thought might suffocate her immediately after defying death. Every rib crushing moment of it was worth a thousand and she hoped they'd never let her go.

"Morgan how?" Dean was still holding tight to her, shaking and couldn't get his words out fast enough, "Cas tried, he couldn't, even Crowley, they couldn't bring you back!"

"What happened?" Sam breathed, leaning back and gently pushed Dean by the shoulder, allowing Morgan a few inches of space to breathe.

"I- I don't know," Morgan stammered, shaking her head in disbelief of what she could remember of the reaper.

"Well wha'd y'see?" Dean urged, still holding her wrists, but careful not to put too much pressure on the sliced one wrapped in a bloody bandana, "Who sent y'back?"

"A reaper," Morgan thought aloud, "but she wasn't happy about it. She said He made her do it, that He owed you a favor."

"He who?" Dean shook his head.

"He," Morgan mimicked the way the reaper had said it and saw understanding hit both brothers.

"Oh, thank you Chuck," Dean pulled Morgan tightly into his arms again, releasing her only long enough for Sam to engulf her in his huge frame.

"What happened?" she asked, turning her head around the room, finally being reminded of the scene she'd left.

Rowena was shaking, sitting up against a wall as Castiel placed his hand on the gash across her temple, Crowley was sipping a glass of scotch, staring happily down at the body of the lanky man, burned and covered in black ash. Morgan turned back to her brothers and saw Sam smirk proudly.

"I got him," the younger brother nodded firmly, brandishing the long, bloody silver spike that had dealt the fatal blow.

"He's?" she peered again at the corpse on the floor, scorch marks and ash extended across the floor from his lifeless shoulders.

"Doornail," Dean smiled, patting Sam on the back.

"But what happened?" she implored.

"We rushed in just as he finished that spell, but it didn't go right for him," Sam explained, "It was too much power or maybe witch magic just doesn't mix with angels, we don't know, but his hand was stuck in that bowl and it was like he was getting burned alive by it, truthfully I didn't wait to see how it was gonna pan out."

"You stabbed him?" Morgan asked the obvious question to complete the scene she was imagining.

"In the brain," Dean chuckled, shaking Sam by the shoulders encouragingly.

"Nice," Morgan extended her fist to Sam in the gesture he'd taught her and he smiled, returning the knuckle bump.

"Yeah, well," Sam smiled, shrugging modestly, "That dick was in my head enough, I owed him one."

"Morgan!" Castiel hurried over, crouching besides Dean's seat on the steps leading to Crowley's throne and put a hand on Morgan's shoulder, eyeing her with immediate concern and suspicion, "Are you alright?"

She nodded at the angel, pleading quietly with him to not tell them what she knew he'd just discovered. Her magic was gone. The familiar warm power she'd lived with her whole life, her only constant companion, had been stolen. God himself had apparently said she was unnatural and had her sent back as a normal, useless teenage girl. What would her brothers want with her now if she couldn't be helpful? She couldn't scry, summon or stop time even for a split second anymore. Despite the smiles of joy she received from both of them, Morgan felt pained by her loss and unsure of her place in the family she'd grown to love now that she was nothing more than a sixteen-year-old girl who was too small for her age and often outspoken.

"You did wonderful, darling," Crowley approached with a smile at the girl.

"She died, Crowley," Dean growled.

"Yes, but she's fine now," the King of Hell gestured to Morgan with his glass.

"Y'r'a dick," Dean bit out.

"The dick that got you here in time," Crowley toasted himself and took a sip of his scotch.

"In time t'what?" Dean stood to his full height, growling his words at the demon, Sam following, "Watch my sister die?"

"Again," Crowley rolled his eyes and peered passed the brothers to Morgan, "hellooo darling, beautiful as always."

"I thought you said I looked like him," Morgan jerked her head at Dean while setting Crowley with a challenging smirk, satisfied at the rise of color she saw behind his bearded cheeks. Sam and Dean smiled tightlipped at the demon, trying to stifle their amusement for a moment, before bursting into boisterous laughter.

Crowley blinked unamused at them before shaking his head, turning towards his throne, waved a hand quickly and the chains hanging around the chair vanished as he took his seat, "I suppose congratulations are in order for you, Moose," Crowley sighed, swirling his scotch, "the last of the big and bad evils in the world, killed by his favorite victim."

"Y'r'still here," Sam smirked at the demon.

"And you know you'd miss me terribly if I weren't," Crowley smiled over his glass before taking a sip.

Sam gripped the angel blade tighter, taking a small step towards Crowley, but Morgan pulled back on his weapon readied arm.

"Please," glancing up at her brother with pleading green eyes and felt Sam's grip loosen on the blade as he nodded slowly at her.

"See?" Crowley winked at Morgan, "your sister doesn't think I'm such a bad guy."

"Consider it the end of your free ride on the kill Lucifer train," she growled at him and Crowley nodded, lifting his glass to her and downing the last of his scotch.

"C'mon," Dean jerked his head towards the large double doors, "let's go home."

Forgetting for a moment her concern about their reactions when they'd discover her loss of abilities, Morgan's smile spread wide hearing the precious word, wanting nothing more than to sleep in her own bed and wake to the smell of bacon wafting down the hall. Dean threw an arm around her and the pair led Sam and Castiel out of the dungeon throne room, away from the faintly heard agonizing screams and into the cool night air.

The Impala sat proudly outside the decaying building they exited, Morgan sighed at the beautiful, black sedan, practically already feeling home as she slid into her spot in the middle of the backseat. The trunk slammed and Sam poked his head in the opened rear passenger door.

"C'mere," he gestured and she slid closer to him as he crouched outside, rifling through the tackle box for ointment and gauze, "let me see y'r'wrist," she immediately held out her arm and he gently removed the makeshift bandage, Morgan hissed as dried blood pulled away from the cut.

Sam worked fast, sopping up new streams of blood before dabbing it with the stinging substance he'd used on her knees their first night together, Morgan winced, but managed to stifle the cry. Her wrist was being wrapped securely in a white bandage when she'd reopened her eyes, catching the dark blood stain on her sleeve, Morgan sadly traced a finger around the hard, tinted patch on the edge of her beloved jacket.

Sam tipped her chin up to look at him, "Y'ok, Sweetie?"

Nodding sadly, knowing she was lucky to be alive and a stain on her jacket was the best possible outcome, Morgan smirked at Sam and gestured her sleeve. Dean laughed briefly behind his brother and leaned over, extending his arm next to Morgan's so she could see a nearly identical, much older, blood stain in almost the exact same spot on his matching blue jacket.

"Just breakin' it in," Dean winked, offering a lighthearted joke, "I'm sure there's a spell somewhere if Tide fails."

Neither was expecting her smile to fall instantly, her face scrunching as she tried painstakingly not to cry at the sudden reminder of her lost magic.

"What?" Dean's concern was clear in his tone, "What's wrong?" turning to Sam's equally confused expression, "What'd I say?"

"Morgan?" Sam put a gentle hand on her knee, "Talk to us, what's wrong?"

She couldn't even force out the words, her breathing short, throat tight and tears were slipping fast down her cheeks despite how hard she was trying to hold them back. Sam and Dean shifting their worried eyes from her to each other and back.

"I'm not," she shook her head, not ready to admit the fact out loud, not ready for it to be true, but it was, "I-I'm not," she cried, unable to make the awful words pass her lips.

"You're not what?" Dean urged.

"She's not a witch anymore," Castiel's low matter-of-fact tone made the Winchesters turn to him standing by the trunk, Morgan had nearly forgotten the angel was still there, but strangely appreciated his completion of her confession, "she was returned without magic."

"What?" Sam shook his head with confusion at the angel and Morgan's stomach twisted, averting her eyes from them.

She half expected them to leave her outside the decrepit entrance to Hell, rumbling away in the Impala without a useless girl taking up room in the backseat. Morgan slid out of the backseat as their backs were still turned, but after only a few steps towards the front of the sedan, Dean's firm hand on her upper arm pulled her back to him.

"Where d'y'think you're goin'?" he raised an eyebrow at her, but she just shrugged, biting back another sob as Dean pulled her into another tight hug.

"Why would you want me now?" she cried quietly into his shirt and he immediately held her at arm's length, leaning down and shaking his head with concern and confusion clear on his face.

"What did you say?" he breathed heavily and Sam approached behind him.

"I'm useless," she whispered hopelessly, "I can't do anything anymore."

"What? Magic?" Dean scoffed and Morgan held her hand over her mouth as a loud sob escaped.

"I'm useless," she cried, feeling Dean shake her lightly.

"Morgan," he tried to get her to look at him, but she was so far into grief she barely heard him.

"I'm useless," her repeated pitiful statement was finished with a gasp as a sharp swat connected with her still tender backside, Morgan's sobs stopped instantly as she slowly looked up at Sam with wide eyes.

"I don't ever wanna hear you say that again," he said firmly and she nodded at him in shock, Sam tugged her from Dean's grasp and held her close, "Morgan we love you, not your magic."

"We just want you, kid," Dean brushed his hand over her hair.

"Really?" she glanced from Dean to Sam.

"Always," Sam smiled.

"We're family," Dean added with finality.

"I can't scry anymore," she confessed.

"Good," Dean nodded with a goon-natured smirk, "makes it easier f'r'me to know when you're snoopin' on crap y'shouldn't be," Morgan couldn't help a small laugh, but Dean leveled his identical eyes on hers and continued with a serious tone, "Morgan, I'm only sorry you lost your powers because you're upset, but if you're upset because you think we're not gonna see you the same or care about you as much without them you are sorely mistaken, kid. Your magic was something I had to get used to, but it's everything else about you, your sweetness, your stubbornness, how incredibly smart you are and how you think about everyone else before yourself, Sweetie that's what I love about you."

"Me too," Sam smiled, poking her gently in the side and producing a small smile.

Nodding slowly at both of them, the twisting in Morgan's stomach had disappeared, their smiles washed her in relief, "Can we go home now?"

"Yes," Dean nodded, "right now."

"Don't forget Claire," Sam reminded, shutting Morgan's door as she slid back into her seat.

Dean sighed before dropping into the driver's seat and glanced at the angel, still standing a few feet next to the trunk, "No chance you wanna jump in on this?"

"You've got it," Castiel nodded and Morgan swore she caught an uncharacteristic smirk on the angel's face.

"Yeah, thanks," Dean rolled his eyes, shut the driver's door hard and the Impala tore down the street with a loud growl.

Morgan leaned into the leather, glancing between the back of her brother's heads as they continued down the dark road. Sam glanced back with an encouraging smile, but everything had already been said, Morgan believed the honest love in her brothers' eyes. Her magic had always been a part of her, the only thing she was ever worth according to her Mother, but as Morgan wiggled her fingers and nothing happened she almost felt thankful. She was still loved, despite losing the only gift her Mother had ever given her, a curse she'd been born into to prove the old witch's power and ability, the only thing her Mother had insisted she keep safe. Now it was gone and Morgan smiled a little to herself at the realization that the last tie she'd had to the awful Icelandic woman had broken. The strong men sitting in front of her had proven beyond anything that they cared for her, a family unlike one she could have ever dreamed of and that was better than any amount of magic. She wasn't a witch anymore, but she would always be a Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone has enjoyed this, I'll be posting her next story soon- Morgan Winchester: Licensed Junior where her adventures continue to High School, but could it really be possible for her to have a totally normal life? Probably not...


	22. ALTERNATE SCENE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS SPANKING OF A MINOR
> 
> This is an alternate take on Chapter 11, so here's what happened (and you can thank three margaritas for reminding me of this)- I was afraid to introduce a spanking into this story, I didn't know how and I didn't know how people would react, so before publishing a lot of chapters at once I changed the scene up, but I kept the original- this is what I first wrote for after the African Dream Root sequence and then the FIRST SPANKING Morgan ever received. Funny enough, I changed up everything after this pretty well, but I forgot one line when she's at Jody's and thinks Dean forgot to bring her the Harry Potter book before they leave, it still fits with her mood I guess though lol Anyway, really really hope y'all enjoy this little "alternate take" from WAY BACK when in Morgan's story...

_**I had to go back and change a few things before the original publishing when I changed this scene, so there was a moment in a previous chapter when Morgan runs and locks herself in her room before throwing herself on her bed, well in the published chapter Sam gets her attention by saying he used to be a psychic, but in the original Dean gives her a good smack on the rear. There's also a brief moment where Dean jokes about kicking Sam's ass too and the younger brother later tells their sister that Dean can't kick his ass anymore- this is your context. Starting right after Morgan offers to help Sam with the library organization while Dean's diagnosing the mysterious noise on the Impala, the oldest makes a pit stop in the library that was cut out of the original...** _

"Wanna help?" Sam mumbled.

"No can do, Sammy," Dean patted Sam on the back with a mocking smile, "I gotta go fix what you broke on my car."

"I didn't break anything!" Sam yelled, but Dean was laughing hard and jogging back towards the garage.

Morgan giggled a little, she could see why Dean enjoyed getting a rise out of Sam, it was easy.

"Yeah, he's hilarious, huh?" Sam gave her an amused sneer, "He knows I didn't break anything, if he even  _thought_  I did he'd kick my ass."

"I thought he couldn't kick your ass anymore?" Morgan prodded, holding her laughter with a tightlipped smile.

"Shut up," Sam smiled and lightly pushed Morgan away by the shoulder as she burst out laughing, "I can definitely kick your ass."

"But you won't," she giggled and gave him the sweetest look she could muster, staring up at him through long eyelashes.

"No, prob'ly not," Sam gave her a half smile with a raised eyebrow, "but Dean will."

Morgan's giggling stopped and Sam smirked at her with a knowing look before returning to the table.

"No he won't," she said indignantly and crossed her arms.

Sam laughed once, "He's about one more tantrum away, just warnin' ya."

Morgan's stomach sank and she felt the color draining from her face as she stared at Sam with wide eyes. The fear on her face made the amusement immediately vanished from his eyes.

"Not that! No, Morgan," Sam ran his hands over his face, "he's never gonna hurt you. Neither of us will, you know that right?"

She nodded slowly at him, but then shook her head hard, blurting her question out far whinier than she meant to, "How is he gonna kick my ass and not hurt me?"

"Don't get in trouble and you won't have to find out," Sam smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Sam!" Morgan was exasperated now.

"Morgan!" Sam responded mockingly.

"Why is everyone yelling?" Dean walked back into the open room, "Sam, d'you know where my pipe wrench got to?"

"Behind the storage room," Sam answered.

"Oh, right," Dean chuckled to himself and turned to leave the room, but caught Morgan's crossed arms and brooding look, "What's up, Sweetie?"

"Sam said you're gonna kick my ass," Morgan felt Sam's eyes glaring behind her as Dean shot a scowl at his brother.

"That's not exactly what happened," Sam said defensively, "we were joking around about you kickin' my ass and I told her you're at the end of your rope with her and she kinda took it the wrong way, I-," Sam just shrugged and let whatever else he had to say disappear.

Dean nodded slowly and looked at Morgan, "He's not wrong," her eyes widened and she took a step back into the table as he ascended the stairs, "but I think your understanding of an ass kicking and ours is a little different. Do you honestly think I'd do to you what I did to that bastard lookin' like me last night? Or any of the awful things your Mother did to you?" she shook her head, remembering Dean's brief, but effective assault in her dream, "Ok, then."

"But," Morgan squeaked as he moved to leave and he returned his attention to her, "w-what-"

"I'll spank you," he said simply, no emotion in his expression, "I don't want to, but I will if I have to."

Morgan remembered his words from the night before after landing a stinging swat on her backside. That must be what he meant, that she could handle. Slowly, Morgan nodded at him that she understood the promise.

"You okay, now?" Dean asked and Morgan nodded at him again, "Good, get to work," emphasizing the given order and his overall point with a light smack on the side of her bottom.

Dean jogged down the stairs and left Sam and Morgan alone in the library. Morgan felt her ears burn hot and she turned to face Sam, who was giving her a look of amused disbelief with his hands on his hips.

"Throwin' me under the bus already," he scoffed.

"Sam, I-" Morgan protested quickly.

"You're so my little sister," he chuckled and tossed a notebook at her, "grab a pen, Brat, let's get goin'."

Morgan smiled as the tension broke. Sam using Dean's new nickname for her made it official, she was now Brat to them.

_**Here it is, the first spanking scene I ever wrote for Morgan and wasn't sure if it would be well received so I changed it (please don't hate me) This was changed in the original to Sam walking in with gym clothes and them taking her to the gymnasium, personally as a sufferer of depression I know exercise can really help with the lows, but originally this is what happened. You might notice a few similarities between this one and the one that was actually published later in her first story because there were things I liked, BUT before you go thinking it's the same scene there at the end, keep reading, because we see a little about Sam that isn't introduced until the sequel"Morgan Winchester: Licensed Junior" and he's more willing to open up in this scenario than he is in the sequel...** _

_**This begins after Dean has sent Morgan to her room during the meeting with Crowley, Rowena and Cas- Sam brought her pizza and said Dean will be in soon...** _

The clock told her she'd been in her room for two hours and forty-five minutes when two solid taps resounded from the other side of the door. Her stomach turned, but she'd had enough time to stew and calm down and just wanted his lecture over.

"Yeah?" she said quietly, closing  _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_  at the half way point she'd reached and sat up on her bed.

Dean walked in, his expression serious, and shut the door, crossing his arms in front of himself in his typical intimidating stance.

"Your emotions need to stop taking over your behavior," Dean stated, getting right to business as usual, "I understand you're angry, but these random outbursts gotta end. You got me?"

She barely nodded at him, watching every move as he took a few steps towards her desk.

Dean pulled the straight back chair into the middle of the room and sat down, "I can't think of anything else that might help you release these emotions, I know you haven't liked how you've been acting either. Do you?" Morgan shook her head at him, Dean took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, "Ok, come 'ere, let's get this over."

Morgan wasn't exactly sure what was getting over, but she took a trusting step off the bed and approached her brother. It was strange looking down at him since he stayed seated, but even in the chair they were nearly eye level with each other.

"Morgan," Dean took her hand and spoke low, his tone was softer, "I will do everything I can to help you with any problem you've got, you're my sister and I love you," Morgan's eyes widened at this admission and Dean smiled, "I do and that's why I'm gonna do this, it's gonna make you feel better in the end and hopefully remind you in the future to find healthier releases for your anger before you have these breakdowns."

Morgan nodded tentatively at him, still unsure what was exactly happening. Dean silently answered her by gently, but firmly, tugging her face down across his knees. Morgan gasped in surprise and felt her face flush with embarrassment at the vulnerable position. Before she realized what was happening a hard smack left a biting sting on her bottom with a loud cracking sound and she gasped again, trying to throw a hand back to protect her behind. Dean was well versed in this dance, however, and didn't skip a beat as he pinned her arm to her lower back and continued methodically laying painful swats on alternating sides of her backside. Morgan was outraged, embarrassed and the heat in her behind was growing more and more painful with every connection of his hard hand.

"DEAN!" She cried when she'd regained her breath and started wiggling furiously, "STOP!"

"You stop," he said and landed two harder swats to the undercurve of her jeans, gaining a satisfying yelp from the wriggling girl over his lap, "Stop holding this anger in and talk to us about it, stop feeling guilty for things you can't control and stop the bratty attitude," he emphasized each of the last four words with an extra hard smack.

Morgan yelled and tried to push herself off his lap, but only managed to give Dean the opportunity to quickly unsnap her jeans and drag them to her knees.

"NO!" She cried, but he had already returned to his assault on her reddening behind, the jeans had offered far more protection that she'd thought and now the pain was unbearable, "Deeean, I-I'm s-sorry!" her breath hitched and tears streamed down her cheeks, "P-p-please!"

"You will drop the attitude, Morgan," she heard Dean's stern orders over the smacking of her thin cotton underwear and several bare skin areas left uncovered, "You're gonna stop mouthin' off and you're gonna listen and do as your told without storming off and slamming doors or you're gonna be right back here. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, s-siiiir," she sobbed, a damn of emotions breaking, she could feel them finally releasing, replaced with a relieving calm. Dean's hand slowed, giving her four solid smacks to the curve of her bottom and upper thighs before rubbing her back and shushing her softly.

"It's over, sweetie," he spoke low and felt her breathing start to calm as she still laid limp, sobbing over his knee.

"I'm s-sorry, Dean," she cried and felt him expertly flip her over on his lap so her head was on his chest but her recently punished bottom cradled between his knees.

"I know, sweetie, it's ok," he wiped tears from her cheeks with his thumb.

Morgan sobbed into his shirt, clutching tightly to the fabric, letting all the pent-up emotions slip away with her tears. She felt clarity inside that she'd never known before, a calm washing over her as the tears subsided. Realizing her cries had nothing to do with the fire in her behind, Morgan felt remorse for the terrible outbursts she'd inflicted on her brothers who did not deserve it and wanted nothing more than to make up for her recent behavior.

"D-do you still- l-lo-love me?" She forced the question with ragged breath, afraid to look at him.

He sighed and kissed the top of her head, "Yes, little girl, I still love you. How'd you feel?"

She let out a small scoff, surprised at her own answer, "Better."

"Thought'cha might," Dean smiled.

"So, that's a spanking," Morgan wondered out loud and felt Dean's chest jiggle slightly with a light chuckle.

"Yeah, that's a spanking," he responded, "Not a lotta fun, huh?"

She shook her head, but it definitely didn't have the same terrifying effect of an irrational beating out of rage. He'd warned her, he'd told her why it was going to happen before he started and was completely in control of himself the entire time. Admittedly, she knew this punishment had been deserved, unlike the assaults she'd endured without understanding the motivation. Morgan didn't feel abused, in fact, she'd never felt more loved.

"I love you, too, Dean," she whispered into his shirt and felt his lips connect again with the top of her head.

For a few more minutes, she stayed curled on Dean's lap, her head against his strong chest, enjoying the calm she finally felt. He seemed to realize she needed this comfort and made no moves to get up, continuously rubbing her back and whispering a few encouraging comments about how much they loved having her around, how incredible and strong she'd proven she was and what he knew he could expect from her.

Morgan, eventually lifted her head up and shifted a little to look at Dean, wincing as part of her very sensitive posterior brushed the rough denim of his jeans. He smiled a little seeing her discomfort, knowing it would only last as long as it needed to.

"So, you're not mad at me?" Morgan asked, looking meekly at him through long eyelashes.

"No," he smiled and kissed her head again, "It's over, we're square," and with an amused smirk and a gentle quick pat on her backside said, "until the next time you're a brat."

Morgan blushed and gave him a small smile before moving gingerly off his lap, she still held lingering concern that this was not the end of it, it couldn't be that easy.

Abandoning her jeans, still around her ankles, she decided sweatpants would be much more comfortable in her current state and grabbed the pair from the top of her dresser. Dean stood to his full height and set the chair back under the desk.

"How 'bout we watch the second Larry Rotter movie later tonight?" Dean offered.

"Harry Potter!" she shouted jokingly at him.

"Right, Gary Snotter, sorry," he smiled and she stuck her tongue out at him, a tiny wince followed her sweatpants assent over her tender bottom, "I'm gonna make dinner, take your time and come in the kitchen when you're ready, ok?"

"Yes, sir," Morgan nodded happily, still surprised he wasn't withholding meals or making her stay in her room.

Dean shut the door on his way out of her room. She waited until she heard his heavy footsteps disappear and pulled the chair from the desk in front of the sink, cautiously standing on top of it. Morgan eased her sweatpants and underwear down, careful to avoid dragging the fabric over her tender skin and examined her bare behind in the mirror over the sink. The top was pink hue that grew into an angry red where her cheeks curved into her upper thighs, those were also painfully hot. Morgan wondered if Dean knew he'd put most of his effort where she sits, then immediately realized that had most certainly been his intension and considered how long it would be before she could sit comfortably.

A soft knock on the door startled her and she grabbed the back of the chair to keep from toppling off it, just as Sam entered. They locked eyes and he chuckled, averting his eyes to the floor as Morgan quickly yanked her bottoms back over her rump, wincing again at the tingle of pain when the fabric made contact. Sam stuck out a hand to help her off the chair, shaking his head with a smile.

"Pretty effective, isn't he?" He asked when her feet were back on the floor.

"Yeah," she mumbled, feeling fresh embarrassment flush her face.

"Trust me," he smirked, "I know."

Morgan stared at Sam and inclined her head, trying to understand what he was saying.

"Where'dya think he perfected that?" Sam chuckled and tousled her hair, finally earning the smile he was looking for from her.

"You?" she asked astounded and nearly laughed at the image of giant Sam over Dean's lap.

"Me," he nodded, "How you feelin'? Besides your butt being on fire."

"Calm," she sighed and he chuckled.

"Yeah, I bet," Sam let Morgan go and smiled down at her, "I know in the end it always helped me come back to earth, not fun gettin' there though."

She shook her head in agreeance and absently rubbed her sore bottom with both hands, it did nothing to alleviate the dull pain. Morgan still couldn't believe it was over, just like that, the slate was wiped. It was far too easy, too good to be true that no one was holding lingering resentments. She was used to punishments being drawn out for days, weeks sometimes, but again she reminded herself there was no comparison to her previous experiences and what just happened.

"Sam?" she asked warily, "Is it's really just – over- that's it? No one's mad at me and I can just - try again?"

Sam's face broke in an expression of pain and sympathy, he pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly around the shoulders, "Yeah, sweetie, it's over, no one's mad at you and I know you're gonna try to do better. Right?" Morgan nodded into his chest, "That's my girl," and Sam planted a kiss on top of her head before releasing her from his arms, "Dean's cookin, you hungry?"

She nodded and followed Sam's gesture out the door he held open, walking a little more gingerly than usual. In the kitchen, Dean was chopping vegetables on the large counter island, but stopped and smiled when she walked in before continuing expertly dicing peppers and onions. Morgan felt warmth spread in her gut at his smile, everything was back to normal between them, he wasn't mad at her and she was determined to keep it that way.

"Can I help?" She asked Dean, noticing he had random ingredients strewn on the counter.

"Yeah," he looked up, briefly halting his chopping again, "thanks, kid, there's chicken marinating in the fridge, grab it for me wouldja?"

"You marinated?" Sam scoffed, sitting on the table and letting his feet dangle just inches off the floor.

"And you're gonna love it," Dean responded, jokingly pointing the knife at Sam before sliding it across the cutting board and dumping the pile of colorful vegetable pieces into a large skillet.

Morgan set the cold bag of chicken breasts drowned in light brown liquid on the counter, it didn't look appetizing, but certainly smelled delicious. She returned to the fridge and grabbed herself a lemonade.

"Can you hand me a beer, Morgan?" Sam asked and she grabbed one from the bottom shelf that had nothing but brown beer bottles on it.

"D'you want one Dean?" Morgan offered, holding a second bottle up at him.

"Yeah, thanks, sweetie."

Without thinking, Morgan set his beer down and popped the cap off by magic, immediately realizing her mistake she looked at him with fear in her face, "I'm sorry!"

Dean looked surprised and a little hurt seeing her back away from him, "What- what are you sorry for?"

"I just did it," she pleaded, "I didn't even think about it, I'm sorry!"

"Morgan," Dean said firmly with his hands on his hips, "calm down and tell me what's goin' on. Why are you sorry?"

"I did magic," she said quietly, "I know you don't like it."

He scoffed and chuckled, "When did I say that?"

"Earlier," she responded quietly, "When everybody showed up and Sam got home with pizza you asked me to get drinks without magic."

Dean hung his head and let out a heavy sigh, before looking at her shaking his head with amusement, "I just needed a minute to talk to them alone, a quick update and threats of bodily harm for any crappy comments," and suddenly a look of understanding crossed his face, "Was that what got you all twisted?" She shrugged her admittance and Dean chuckled, "Ok, look, I'm not a huge fan of magic because it's usually being used against me, but I thought you and I had moved passed that. Morgan, I'm sorry, I should have told you I needed a minute, but for some reason I felt you might try to listen in and you've been a bit edgy lately," he inclined his head at her and she looked away knowing he was completely right, "I have no problem with you using your magic, don't think I do, as long as it's for good reason."

Morgan felt suddenly better and worse at the same time, glad Dean trusted her with her abilities, but worse for her massive overreaction at his request earlier.

"I'm sor-" Morgan began but Dean put a hand up cutting her off her apology.

"You got yours, kid," he said gently and Morgan felt Sam's arm across her shoulders, "From here we move on and do better."

She nodded at him and felt Sam sneak his beer out of her hand. He held it in front of her and she looked up at him confused.

"D'ya mind?" Sam smiled and Morgan smiled back as the cap flew off his beer and deposited itself in the trash can.

_**Morgan's story has evolved into a HUGE second edition, I seriously can't believe what it's become, but #2 is about to wrap up on Chapter 50 in the next week (or two, don't rush me jeez lol) BUT I have the bones sketched for the third and final part of this series, so there is more of her story to come =)** _


End file.
